


Compatible

by AttackoftheDarkCurses



Series: Attack's Trope-y HEAs [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Caretaking, Chekhov’s Ceiling Mirror, Cock Warming, Consensual Sonomophilia, Daddy Kink, Daddy Kink Without the Word "Daddy", Explicit Consent, F/M, Free Use, Friends to Lovers, Healthy Communication, Mention of Past Kinkshaming, Mention of Past Misunderstanding, Mention of previous relationships, Mention of safe words, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 62,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AttackoftheDarkCurses/pseuds/AttackoftheDarkCurses
Summary: Both freshly single, friends Ben and Rey take a weeks’ vacation together.It’s just not the vacation either of them expected.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Attack's Trope-y HEAs [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567354
Comments: 967
Kudos: 2104
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While this may not seem like my norm (here’s a reminder to read through the tags), I’ve been wanting to write something along the lines of daddy kink for a while, with a catch—no use of the word “daddy” past the characters deciding not to use it. No shade to the fics (or people) that use “daddy”; there’s no problem with people using it (of course), but IRL there’s a lot more to the kink. I wanted to write something that embraced other parts of it, so in this, there’s going to be more of a focus on caretaking, instruction, nurturing, and aftercare. There are a lot of ways to enjoy this kink; this is just an example of one of them.
> 
> Based on a [ReyloPrompt](https://twitter.com/reylo_prompts/status/1161790509104451584).

It’s the pink heart-shaped tub sitting almost directly in the suite’s center that gives her pause. Maybe it should have been the rose petals on the white bedspread or the champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries left out for them. _Maybe_ it should have been the mirror on the ceiling over the king-size bed, but no. It takes a _heart-shaped tub_ for Rey to stop and consider what’s off about the room.

Her laughter comes out in a nervous titter as she tucks a wave of hair behind her ear. “Oh. Hm. So when that groupon said two-for-one…”

Beside her, Ben drops his luggage, blurting succinctly, “Is this a fucking honeymoon suite?”

“I can only assume,” she shrugs, trying to keep her flush under wraps.

As if he’s somehow been defeated, Ben sighs deeply.

~*~

It’s a Monday when Snap dumps her. Or… _dumps_ is too strong a word for what they were. _Benefits,_ yes, _friends_ , hardly. More like acquaintances with benefits. Repeat tinder hookups. Pleasant, _sort_ of satisfying a need, and somewhat comfortable. He was never the sort of person who would cuddle her after a round; he’s not even someone she’d catch a movie with on a dull night, or someone she’d look to for advice.

She isn’t the least bit heartbroken at the _I met someone, but this was fun, thanks_ text, but the follow-up three texts that further explain why he would have ended their little twice-a-week arrangement even if he hadn’t met _Alice from the local farmstand_? The part where he casually mentions how _normal_ the woman is? That part hurts. That part leaves her feeling like she’s strange, like there’s something wrong with her. Like she’s starving for something and she’ll never be satisfied. But as it sets in—the painful realization that maybe she won’t find someone who understands her and her needs—more texts come in from a different number.

_Phas left me. For good this time._

_She moved out while I was visiting my parents._

_She said she doesn’t see a future now that I don’t work for The First Order._

_Call me? Please?_

And just like she’d do for a grand total of _maybe_ four people in her life, Rey swallows down her own disappointment and puts Ben’s first, especially since she knows he doesn’t have anyone else to call. Poe and Finn distanced themselves since he started at The First Order, even though they were his friends way back in freshman year of college, back when Rey only thought he was a snobby rich asshole who would laugh at her needing to keep two jobs along with classes. 

Rey is probably his only remaining friend from their little group, and theirs is a friendship born of Ben’s incessant chasing her down after their shared classes or after Poe’s dorm parties, all because he could never understand why she hated him. But those soft eyes and his never-ending offers to walk her home after late-night bartending shifts or email his notes for their shared 8 AM class so she could stay in and sleep… those made it hard to hate him. 

So now, nearly a decade into their friendship, she skips calling him; calling doesn’t let you hug someone who needs the comfort, and not once has he hesitated to do the same for her.

Eleven minutes after his most recent text, she knocks on his door, bottle of wine in hand, and gives him a sympathetic smile before he wraps around her and burrows into her shoulder, pulling her inside and out of the light summer rain. His hair brushes against her face, smelling of citrus, and the old college sweater he’s wearing—one she’s stolen countless times during their friendship—is soft as she soothes a hand down his back. He feels like _home._

Rey lets her eyes flutter closed while he hugs her tight.

~*~

Neither of them has said anything since they arrived in the suite. It’s been nine minutes and counting. Ben has paced the room approximately fifteen times, but Rey knows him well enough to give him space to work through whatever nervous energy he’s dealing with. There are chocolates on the pillow, expensive bath products stored near the oddly placed tub, and complimentary fluffy robes; she has little intention of complaining about anything, despite the awkwardness of the activities the room is suggesting she and Ben might engage in.

At the twelve-minute mark of being inside the frigid air-conditioned room, Rey wraps her arms around herself, rethinking her suitcase of summer dresses just as Ben halts in his pacing and finally says, “I’ll sleep in the tub,” as if that solves what she considers a non-issue.

Munching on his pillow-chocolate since he detests mint, she snorts. “You won’t fit. Or you’ll try, and you’ll complain about a sore neck all week.”

“What’s my alternative?” he drawls, “You feel like sharing the bed covered in rose petals?”

She shrugs. “Why not? We’ll brush them off. It’s a massive bed, it won’t be a problem. We crashed on Poe’s futon that one time, it was fine. _Also,_ we’ve been driving all day. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. My plans involve food, relaxing, and nobody sleeping in the tub.”

After a pause, he says with no further explanation, “But sharing… that isn’t a good idea.”

But since he’s said that about _literally_ everything she’s suggested since they agreed to this trip, she shrugs again and turns the conversation to the different fun activities the resort offers—everything from climbing lessons to couple’s massages. She figures Ben will either come around or be stubborn enough to insist one of them sleep six nights in a bathtub.

Not for a moment does she think anything unusual will come of this.

~*~

It takes Rey only moments to put aside her own personal sadness in favor of Ben’s. Phas was his longest relationship by far _and_ the only relationship Rey’s seen him in, clocking in at a tumultuous on-and-off six years, so she tries to remind him he’s allowed to be upset. They finish a bottle of wine just as Ben finishes the story of how she didn’t understand that corporate life has been ripping him apart lately. It strikes Rey that he maybe hasn’t realized it’s been ripping him apart since he took that internship with Snoke during their senior year of college, but she keeps quiet and lets him go on. He tells her of how Phas sat him down and had a long, _long_ talk when he announced he was trading the cushy corporate job for a mechanic’s position at his father’s garage—Phas didn’t take well to his mention of him deciding to rely on his trust fund while he figures things out. 

He uncomfortably adds that his now-ex had scoffed at his concern that he needs to spend less time at work and more time in therapy _due_ to the work.

Rey… sort of wants to hate her. _Part_ of her has maybe irrationally disliked Phas just a little bit since Ben introduced her as his girlfriend, at the college graduation party his parents threw for him years ago.

But part of her (a more rational part) knows major life decisions should be discussed between two people, especially when those people have been discussing engagement. Part of her is just _supremely_ relieved Ben’s stopped working for The First Order. Even with blotchy red eyes and a voice thick with resignation, she can tell he’s sleeping better. It looks like he sleeps a full six to eight hours in a _bed_ now, and not on the couch in his swanky corner office in twenty-minute nap segments between meetings. It looks like he’s just finished a marathon and is so _so_ happy to be done. 

Part of her—a part she’ll keep to herself—thinks he’ll someday see that he and Phas have been going in different directions for a little while. Phas is stunning and brutal in a way that makes her brilliantly suited for life at The First Order, and possibly not at all suited for a relationship with someone like Ben, who has _finally_ realized work isn’t what he wants to prioritize. 

“I thought I could have this new life and still have her in it,” Ben admits. His shoulders sag. “But she said her career would always come first, and she wants to be with someone as driven as her. I mean, I always liked how ambitious she was, even when we were just interns, but _I’m not._ If that’s what she wants in a partner, I don’t blame her for ending things. I can’t even be mad at her. I think what’s bothering me is how… I’m not as bothered by it as I expected to be. Phas seems fine with it, too. Maybe she’s right, maybe we’ve just grown… “

“Incompatible?” 

The feeling is all-too familiar.

“Yeah,” he sighs. He’s staring at the floor between his feet, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “Incompatible.”

~*~

Ben seems intent to glare at anything remotely _love_ themed in their room, and by six o’clock—merely an hour after their arrival—she’s had enough of it. She gives him five more minutes of silent glowering while she swaps out her cozy travel clothes for an airy flower-covered sundress and sandals.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here,” she insists, tugging at his arm. “This room is… a bit much. There’s a bar by the pool and a buffet, you _know_ I don’t turn down a good buffet.”

He huffs what might be a reluctant laugh, and nods. His anxiety seems to halve when they leave the room.

It’s easier to be around him when he’s not stressed; when something’s bothering him, he gets so tense his jaw tightens and his fists clench, and if she didn’t know him so well, it might be a little nerve-wracking. But as they cross the marble-floored lobby of the mountain resort and take double doors out into a massive stone courtyard overlooking the peaks, his shoulders relax, as does his jaw. He maybe even gives her a smile.

“You get the food,” she instructs, gesturing toward the buffet. “I’ll get drinks.”

Because Ben knows her, he knows to get lots of little finger foods they can share—she’s never been picky and with buffets, she tries _everything._ He brings back plates of fruits and veggies, mini-sandwiches and little hors d'oeuvres, all perfect for grazing.

And because she knows _him,_ she knows to get two daiquiris so he won’t steal hers when he orders something like _whiskey, neat,_ and then decides he wants something sweet. Predictably, he ignores his boring drink order in favor of the fruity blend the moment he sees what she’s brought.

The buzz of the other resort guests quiets as they eat in comfortable silence, staring out at a summer sunset over mountains neither of them have seen before. 

He leans closer, nudging at her shoulder with his. “Maybe this was a good idea,” he admits, not taking his eyes off the view before them. He pauses, and she watches his mouth tilt up. “Thanks. For suggesting it, I mean. Feels like forever since we’ve…” His voice trails off, but he murmurs, “It was a good idea.”

Rey tries not to say _I told you so._

Three drinks _each_ later, and the sun has fully set over the mountains on their first night at the resort. Ben’s the only one of the two of them who remembers how to get back to their suite; the hallways seem more like a labyrinth while her head is fuzzy. He holds her hand to guide her; his hand dwarfs hers, warming her with how nice it feels. It feels safe, protective. Caring.

“So what happened?” he asks, just as an elevator lets them out on the floor he claims is theirs. “With your ex? I don’t think I asked.”

Her nose wrinkles. “He’s not an ex. He was never _not_ an ex. Does that make sense?” She laughs a little at the idea—Snap was _nice,_ but never boyfriend-nice. “We were just… _you know.”_

Judging by Ben’s “Ah,” he _does_ know, but he still asks, “Didn’t work out?”

Rey purses her lips, trying to ignore that bit of sadness that threatens to seep in. Not at the loss of companionship, but at the reminder of what she wants, and hasn’t had.

“We weren’t compatible.”

He hums like he understands.

~*~

As Ben finishes explaining things, she scoots over on his couch and perches her chin on his slouched shoulder, wrapping her arms around his middle in a side-hug. 

“You’re going to be okay, you know.”

“Maybe, yeah.” 

Even without looking, she knows he’s working his mouth like he does when something’s bothering him. “Eventually. I wish I’d seen the issues earlier, though. I care about her, but… I think we were putting a lot of effort into making it work because we felt like we had to, and the more I think about it, the more I think neither of us wanted to. We got back together too many times.” 

She nods against his shoulder. “And you think it’s over this time?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’s time. We’ve been pulling away from each other for a while. I think we both had different expectations, and maybe _this_ is us getting on the same page.”

She squeezes him a little tighter. It might be true—as far as she’s seen—but that doesn’t make it suck less. When she pulls away, Ben gives her a small smile and musses her hair as he stands to find them another bottle of wine. While he’s up, she checks her email, refusing to let herself text Snap back a long message about how it might be perfectly fine to end their arrangement, but _unacceptable_ to kink-shame her. Doing so would be a waste of her time, she reminds herself. It isn’t worth it.

As she scans a particular email—one that would normally go to _junk_ without another thought—Rey tilts her head. “Huh.”

“What?” Ben asks, returning to the couch. He hands a filled glass of something that smells much more expensive than she brought. 

Her eyes flick up to his. Nine times out of ten, this is something she’d suggest to Rose, not Ben. Ben belongs in the _movie nights, dinners, and birthday parties_ friend circle. The sort of friend she could call for help with moving, the sort who could help her devour ice cream and the pizza-shaped carbs after a terrible week, or the sort of friend whose place she could stay at if her apartment was being fumigated. They aren’t _vacation together_ friends, not even after all these years. There’s some tension, some string pulled taught between them that’s so close to snapping. She’s long since written it off as not at _all_ mutual, and overall, a bad idea, so she’s decided to ignore it until it disappears… though after years of friendship, it hasn’t.

But if anyone needs an escape right now, it’s the two of them.

“How soon could you get a week off?” Rey asks. “There’s a two-for-one groupon for this inclusive resort and spa in Bespin, and I don’t know… we’re both freshly single and a week at a place like that would be relaxing, right? Get our minds off things? I’ve got so much vacation time stored up, I think I’m about to hit my limit.”

It’s been just over four years since she started at the tiny but successful Holdo Engineering, and not _once_ has she taken more than a long weekend off. Whether she’s been saving it for a rainy day or whether she’s just too engrossed in her job, Rey’s not sure, but lately her boss has been prodding her to take a break.

Ben hesitates over the rim of his glass and frowns. “You were seeing someone? Since when?”

“Sort of, not really? He ended things today.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’ve been talking about myself all night.” He stops, his shoulders drooping. “I guess it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Rey, I’m so—”

She interrupts before he spirals into unnecessary guilt. “You’ve been busy. And it wasn’t serious.” Concern still fills his expression, but before he can ask, she explains, “I don’t care that it ended, but _why_ it ended… that bothered me. I could use the time away. This place has a pool. That could be nice.”

It’s clear that he wants to ask, wants to prod like he does when he’s worried about her. It’d be sweet if it wasn’t an echo of something she desperately wants in a different context.

“Okay,” he nods. “Sure. A week away could help. I could go whenever now that I’m just working at the shop.”

Rey musters up a smile. “Great. I’ll book it.”

~*~

They arrive outside their suite—the one she now sees is clearly marked as a honeymoon suite—and Ben asks again. “So, not compatible? What, you wanted different things?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly,” she admits. She stares down at the off-white diamond-patterned carpet below her shoes as Ben unlocks the door. “I wanted something he couldn’t give me. He wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“You wanted more?”

She gnaws at her lip, pulling it between her teeth. Ben stills by the door, giving her a curious look as she debates how much to say. She shakes her head. “I told him about something I was into and mentioned I wanted to try it, eventually. He didn’t appreciate the suggestion. He got very weirded out by it.”

As he catches her meaning, Ben’s eyes seem to gleam with curiosity. “Oh? Well, now I _have_ to know.”

It’s tough, wondering which reaction makes more sense—a blush under his intensifying gaze, or a twinge of pain at the risk that someone _else_ , someone who means much more to her, will judge her for such a thing.

“Since when do we not we tell each other everything? Plus, the longer you go without telling me, the more depraved I assume it is,” Ben points out, pushing the door open. He walks in, and with brief hesitation, she follows behind him, closing the door so she can lean back against it as he teases, “Was it tentacles? It was tentacles, wasn’t it? You wanted to use a giant tentacle strap on the poor guy? One of those forearm-length ones? Rey, you have to _work up to—“_

“It wasn’t _tentacles,_ oh my god,” she hisses.

He laughs, leaning against the wall opposite her. Her eyes catch at the way he tucks his hair behind one ear. “I’m going to assume it’s something unusual, something _really_ hardcore, unless you tell me. Every time I think of you, I’m going to wonder if it was tentacles, or—”

Maybe it’s the drinks, maybe it’s that it’s _Ben_ and Ben never judges her for things, but something makes her push through the blushing and the shyness.

“I wanted to be taken care of,” she interrupts, locking eyes with the floor. “Not all the time, but sometimes.”

When she manages to look up to see if he’s holding back laughter, Ben looks curious. He gestures for her to explain, and she can’t help but wish she’d gotten another drink to go.

“Being taken care of, like… if someone brushed out my hair or bathed me or picked my clothes,” she starts off, trying to stay a little vague—trying to not admit how much she’s considered this. “I know it’s weird, but I think it’s because I’ve never really relied on anyone else. Sometimes I want to feel little, like I’m not in control, but I’m _safe._ This isn’t what I like outside of a private relationship. You _know_ how pissed I’d be if a date so much as ordered for me at a restaurant without asking me. But there are times I wish I had a partner who would be dominant, but soft?” She pauses and gives a shrug. “If that makes sense. Fewer ropes and ball-gags, more care-taking. Or… nurturing? Someone who focuses on making sure I’m happy and relaxed, someone who only sets rules for my benefit, with positive reinforcement? Maybe rewards or telling me I’m— telling me I’m—” 

_“Good?”_ he finishes for her. She’s imagining it, the rough edge to his voice. “You like being told you’re good? Is that it?”

Her cheeks burn, just at the word. She groans, covering her face with her hands. “I’m babbling. Ignore me. Forget I said anything.”

Ben is as blunt as usual. “Are you trying to say you have a daddy kink?”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?” she asks, as if she didn’t already know that.

He nods, just once. For an uncomfortable minute or two, he stares so intently she has to look away, but then she realizes she’s staring at a bed that’s still covered in rose petals. Heart thudding at the thoughts that creep in along the edges of her mind, Rey averts her eyes, pulling them away and down to her feet.

She half-expects him to issue judgment, to say something about how it’s demeaning to her or sick, like Snap said in his texts. She expects him to kindly say she should have more respect for herself, that no respectful, well-meaning partner will ever treat her like she needs rules or guidance. Briefly, she feels a spike of anxiety at the thought that he’ll spend the rest of their week with the new context, side-eyeing her sweet summer dresses and the relaxing _Art for Mindfulness_ coloring book that’s in her bag.

Ben neither says nor does any of that. At least not right away. He only tilts his head like he’s seeing her in some new light. Rey stills, preparing herself for another wave of disappointment at the inevitable lecture on self-respect and the harms of preferences like this.

“You had me thinking it was something _much_ more unusual,” he finally laughs. 

When she looks back up at him, there’s a bit of disbelief in her gaze. “He said it was demeaning to me,” she admits, still not quite believing the accepting expression on his face. “He said it was sick, and I should have more respect for myself.”

Ben scoffs, leaning against the wall across from her. “What’s disrespectful about letting yourself be vulnerable with a person you trust? If it’s consensual, what’s the harm?”

She gives a little shrug, still trying to wrap her mind around his reaction. “It wasn’t even an expectation. I’m not sure I would have been comfortable exploring it with him. I thought we were having an honest conversation, so I mentioned that I liked the idea of it. I didn’t realize he’d react so negatively.” She folds her arms over her chest, leaning further against the door as she admits, “Truthfully, I haven’t even tried it. There are sites and I’ve considered it, but I’ve always been too nervous. You never know who you’ll meet online, you know?”

“You don’t trust many people,” he nods. His throat bobs, just before he says, “But… what about me?”

Her gaze cuts to his. “What?”

She’s obviously misunderstood, but the temperature in the room seems to double.

“Do you trust me enough?” Ben asks. His voice is so soft, but it’s hard to tell if he’s just asking out of curiosity, or if he’s offering. Only a moment later he clarifies, “Would you like it if I took care of you? Maybe while we’re here? If you want to explore it, better to do so with someone you trust, right?”

Her breathing stutters. A million reasons to say _no_ flood her mind, but the only thing she lands on is, “But you’re here to take your mind off a breakup, that’s—”

“I’m guessing it would take my mind off things,” he interrupts, a brow raised. “I’m offering. If I wasn’t willing, I wouldn’t. You either want to take me up on that offer, or don’t. Neither will offend me.”

For a plethora of reasons, it’s a terrible idea. She knows Rose would be shaking her head _no_ rapidly if she was here, though... somehow she already knows Ben will be _excellent_ at this. It isn’t a doubt in her mind, and that, more than anything, is a reason to say no. It’s tempting and she’d be lying if she hadn’t thought about it, and she could have an entire _week_ with him. 

Alternatively, she would _only_ have a week with him. Maybe a short-lasting taste of something she desperately wants is worse than never knowing how good it could be.

More than that, it’s terrible idea for one very specific reason: being a rebound for a close friend is an excellent way to _lose_ that friend. 

“I won’t be offended if you say no,” he repeats, and his voice is both gentle and commanding, promising an awful lot if she says yes. “I’m not trying to push. If you say no, we’ll forget it. If you say yes, we’ll set expectations. Just let me know either way. Sleep on it if you—”

“Yes,” she blurts. “Yes, I want to.”

There’s a pause. A pause that stretches out, a pause during which she becomes terrified he’s about to admit he’s making an awful joke and he never meant any of it.

But then he moves. He pushes off the wall he’s leaning against, stepping forward into her space. He’s close, so he has to bend a little to stare down at her—a hell of a reminder that he’s _much_ bigger than her. Somehow she knows it isn’t the alcohol that’s making her light-headed as she looks up and sees something dark, but warm, simmering in his eyes. His head tilts as his gaze wanders her expression, like he’s taking care to check for any reluctance, any hesitation, any doubt. 

She wants to reach out, slide her hands up along the soft, fitted black t-shirt that’s stretching across his chest; she presses her palms flat against the wall behind her instead. His mouth quirks when he notices her reaction to him, and Rey ends up twining her fingers together behind her back, just to keep from touching him.

“Rey,” he murmurs, and her name on his lips sounds like a promise. “You’ll really let me take care of you? You’re really okay with this?”

His hand comes up under her chin, his fingers spreading to brush along her jaw. Her eyes flutter closed in response, her mind reeling at his reaction. 

Maybe it’s a terrible idea. Maybe it’ll go horribly and end in a lot of awkward laughter and an embarrassing story neither of them will ever share. Maybe it’ll end the best friendship she’s had.

But her answer comes so easily. 

“Yes. Please.”

“Good,” he says slowly, like he knows just how the word sends tingles up her spine. “ _So_ good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)


	2. Chapter 2

Ben doesn’t sleep in the suite’s tub. He still offers to, but she asks _nicely_ that he join her in bed. She may even tangle her fingers with his and say _please_ and tell him it’s been years—since that night they crashed at Poe’s—since anyone’s cuddled her. It’s not a thing she does.

Maybe it’s just to help with the room’s tense energy, but Ben jokes, “Sure, we’ll call it aftercare for a stressful conversation.”

Rey huffs a laugh and they proceed as though it really is a joke they won’t follow through with, even as they each change into sleep clothes and ready for bed, cleaning the rose petals off the surface. But once the lights are off and Ben curls around her, squeezing her back against him, it doesn’t feel like a joke. He coaxes her out of her instinctive knees-to-chest sleep position, soothing a hesitant hand down her arm, over her clothed stomach, along her thigh, like he’s trying to get her stop tensing.

Or maybe he’s just trying to get her used to being touched.

He nuzzles her, pressing his face into the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, just along the edge of her t-shirt collar. 

“You’re tense,” he murmurs against her skin. “How can I help?”

Her body’s tension isn’t even because of him, isn’t because of their new arrangement. She’s every bit as tense at home. It’s her normal, has been for as long as she can remember, all the way back to the nights before Maz became her foster-mother, back when falling into a heavy sleep was likely to result in her things being stolen.

She nestles back into him, letting his body cradle hers. “I don’t know.”

Ben pauses, not speaking while he traces patterns up and down her abdomen, through her t-shirt. 

When he whispers, “I want you to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning,” and kisses behind her ear, it’s not a joke, nor a way to break the tension. It’s _exactly_ what she needs to calm her thudding, anxious heart.

Her breathing calms to match his and his arm slides up her front, landing somewhere below her breasts. That’s where it stays, keeping her firmly in his hold. 

She doesn’t toss and turn, doesn’t have discomforting dreams, doesn’t snap awake at the smallest sound.

When she wakes for the day, it’s slow, and _hours—_ eight or nine of them—later, and to the sound of a polite knock. She grumbles something sleepy and nonsensical, pressing closer into the warmth of the body next to her. There’s more knocking, but she ignores it, not even bothering to open her eyes. 

Ben’s chest rises and falls under her. It seems they readjusted overnight, probably an hour or two ago when she woke to use the bathroom. He’s on his back now, not seeming to mind the way she’s splayed out over him. His arm is tucked under her head and cradled around her back, his hand squeezing her side while one of her legs is curled over one of his.

Everything about it is a dream, except for the knocking. Ben mutters something about room-service, and to her supreme displeasure, he pulls away. With her eyes still closed, she reaches out for him, finding only a pillow. It’s not _Ben,_ but it’s warm from him, so she tugs it close and buries her face in it, not ready to brave what they’ve agreed to, nor the conversation they need to have.

The faint sound of voices and a closing door make it to her, but she lets the comfort of the bed drag her in and keep her.

Moments later, a hand soothes over the back of her shoulder, brushing over the cotton of her old college t-shirt. His voice is as calming as the cloud of mattress and pillows she’s resting on.

“Rey? I ordered us breakfast.” He squeezes her shoulder, his thumb sliding over the bare skin at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. He must lean close—his breath feathers against her ear when he whispers, “I ordered you pancakes with chocolate chips.”

She perks up. Propping up on her forearms, Rey cracks her eyes open. For a minute, she’s not sure what to focus on first: the veritable mountain of pancakes or the sight of one of her oldest friends, shirtless and much more muscular than she realized. It seems every bit of him is toned, from biceps she’d consider licking, to a chest that— 

Clearing her throat, she smiles and tries not to blush. “Wow. That looks great.”

Ben’s mouth tilts up at her expression, entirely missing what she’s staring at. “I thought they might wake you up. There’s coffee, too.”

“What, is this a bribe?” she teases, sitting up. She rests back against the padded headboard, crossing her legs in front of her, and grabs the plate Ben holds out to her. It’s piled with four golden brown pancakes made with a generous helping of chocolate chips. “These look amazing.”

He hesitates before sitting beside her, and she lets her eyes wander his profile. The bare chest, the soft-looking skin, the faint trail of hair at his stomach, leading down to the top of his gray sweatpants. It’s a wonder he doesn’t catch her staring before her attention snaps back to the pancakes.

“Not a bribe,” Ben confirms as he reaches to his nightstand for his mug of coffee. “But we should talk about last night. I don’t think you drank enough to not remember, but given the conversation…”

Her words come out soft over her mug. “I remember.”

Nothing changes in his expression. No noticeable surprise, no relief, nothing that gives away what he hopes to hear for an answer. “And now that you’ve slept on it?”

Now that she’s awake, she can’t get the image of his heated gaze out of her mind. She can’t stop remembering how much she wanted to touch him, how it felt when he held her chin, how his fingers slid along her jaw. 

“I’m sure,” she nods, trying to ignore how faint her answer sounds. “If you’re sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he says under his breath. If she’s not mistaken, there’s a hint of humor in his voice. “We should discuss expectations. Limits.”

It’s all so formal. With a laugh, Rey teases, “What, you have a contract drawn up and ready for signing?”

Ben rolls his eyes. The corner of his mouth curls. “No. Nothing like that. Still, it wouldn’t kill us to be on the same page.” He sips at his coffee, keeping a calm facade as he asks, “You mentioned you’d like to be taken care of? Could you elaborate? If we do this, I want to make sure I know what you need.”

She shoves a bite of pancake in her mouth. Whatever bravado the drinks afforded her last night must have disappeared in her sleep, but somehow she’s not an anxious mess. Maybe she’s a little nervous, but mostly, she’s… _at ease._ It’s an unfamiliar feeling.

When she doesn’t reply, Ben mentions, “Something to keep in mind this week: If you want to do this, it’ll be better for us both if we communicate. So, if you _ask,_ you can have whatever you want.” Then, lower, “Assuming you’re good.”

To her surprise, he reaches out and spreads a palm over her knee, his fingers splaying across her leg, over a pair of yoga pants she likes to sleep in. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he promises. “It’s okay. We can talk about this. How long have we known each other?”

Rey takes in a deep breath, smiling tightly at his hand on her. It’s comforting but… but it spans _so_ much of her. 

“Uh. Since that finals study-session at Poe’s. Freshman year.” At the memory, she laughs. “I think my introduction to you included overhearing you venting to Poe about needing to find a new place that would be faster with your dry cleaning.”

He grimaces. “At least I do my own laundry now.”

“Mm, and you learned how to thanks to…”

“You,” he sighs. “I know, I know.” He shakes his head, giving a quiet laugh. “My point is, we’ve been friends for a long time. We’ve seen each other being assholes, we’ve seen each other sick and miserable, _this_ isn’t a big deal.”

It’s a decent point, helping calm the fluttering nerves in her stomach.

“So, tell me what you’ve thought about,” he says. “Fantasies, wants, whatever. I know you mentioned things that are more… care-taking? Grooming, bathing, things like that. What else? Be specific.”

“Um. Okay,” she starts, swallowing a bite that’s gone dry in her throat. “So, it’s hard for me to not be in control, right? You know me. I’m _always_ in control, I always need to know my schedule, and I’m bad at trusting anyone else to manage things. That’s half the reason I never take time off. I’m too anxious, worrying things will go to hell while I’m gone. Gods, when Amilyn told me to delegate tasks to new interns, I went into a panic.”

Ben shakes his head at her, like he disapproves. “You’re not good at trusting people.” He pauses, adding in an almost teasing voice, “And you used to say _I_ was too obsessed with work?”

When she gives him a shrug and a half-smile, he smiles back _so_ warmly, she can almost pretend this is a casual conversation they’d have over coffee and not the conversation it really is.

“You’re right,” she admits. “It’s not even limited to work. I’m just… bad at letting go of control. I spent so long without it, and once I got some, I never wanted to let go. But sometimes I’m _so_ tired. Part of me—” Rey pauses, biting at the inside of her cheek before she murmurs, “I want someone to take that control away. Someone I trust. I want to be taken care of and made to relax, and— and _used._ Does that make sense?”

Ben nods. He’s oddly calm. He acts like they’re discussing the weather, which is a mix of startling and comforting.

“What else? Is there anything specific you’ve been wanting to try? Sexual or otherwise?”

There’s quite a list. Ben played an embarrassingly large part in her fantasies early in their friendship, but it was the sort of fantasizing that left her feeling mortified and awkward upon waking. Even now, she feels guilty at the thoughts she has of him.

She stares down at her pancakes, trying to come up with the most mild things she’s thought of doing with him. It’s a minor miracle she manages an answer. “I’ve wondered how many of your fingers I could take,” she utters, not daring to look over at him. “I’ve thought about your mouth. Wondered if you like giving or—”

Rey pauses at the way he clears his throat. She looks up to find an amused and curious expression on his face. 

“You didn’t mean things specific to you, did you?”

When he shakes his head, his mouth twisted into the smallest hint of a smirk, Rey drops her head into her hand and groans. 

“Ah.” Her laugh is stilted. “Awkward.”

“I disagree.” He sips his coffee and doesn’t take his eyes off her for a second. “If we’re doing this, it’s good to know.” He pauses, then turns to set his coffee and omelet on the nightstand next to him. A moment later he turns back to her, facing her fully, his legs folded in front of him. “I know you said you’re sure, but why don’t I say some things, and you can decide what sort of week you want to have. If you decide you’d rather spend this vacation in the pool or shopping or getting spa treatments or hiking, no hard feelings. We’ll pretend last night’s conversation was the alcohol talking. Okay?”

She sets aside her own plate, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt before she gives him a nod.

When he speaks, Rey starts to wonder if she’s inside one of her fantasies. Some start like this.

“If you want to move forward with this, here are my terms. We need to establish a safe-word you know you’ll remember. I also need to know what you aren’t willing to do.” He tilts his head at her, his expression softening. “This doesn’t need to be sexual. If you want to spend the week letting me brush your hair, order you food, massage your shoulders, and bathe you in the most platonic way I can manage, that’s good. I’m happy to do it. If you want to spend the week letting me…” his eyes flick over her, only coming back to her face when he clears his throat again and continues, “Use you, that’s also good. But I need to know.” 

Rey rolls her shoulders back, trying to work up the same nerve she had the night before. “I want all of that,” she admits. “The care-taking parts, yes, but I’d also like to shut my brain off and feel. Be more pliable, less in control.”

Ben nods. “What are you unwilling to do? I know it might feel awkward making a list, but I need to know.”

“I trust you,” she answers, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. “With anything. Part of the appeal for me here is that I _want_ to be used however my partner sees fit. I’m not into being punished, physically—I think that’s why I like _this._ It’s more nurturing, so as long as you keep that in mind... anything, I guess.”

There’s a hint of disbelief to his voice. “Anything? I mean no offense, but I have doubts you mean that. It’s not a good idea to walk into this without having a grasp on what your limits are.”

Rey shrugs. “I think I’d like knowing that you could do whatever you want, and what _I_ want wouldn’t be a factor. I’d be giving up all control, so—”

“Unless you need to safe-word, you mean,” he interrupts, sudden concern crossing his expression.

“Mm, of course. But you know what I mean, don’t you?”

He considers her for a while before giving an almost imperceptible nod. When he speaks again, his voice is challenging, like he’s pushing her to draw a line. “Anything that doesn’t involve punishment? Then, what are your thoughts on being fucked while you sleep?”

The shocking thing is how he deadpans the question. Like this is a normal question for him. Like he’s just asked her favorite color.

“Um—“

“If you say _anything,_ be sure you mean _anything._ On the list of what _anything_ includes, that’s on the mild end.”

Rey’s mouth goes dry. “I— sure. Yes. That’d be fine.”

“Hm.” His head tilts. “So, while we’re here, I could tell you to get on your knees because I feel like coaching you on how to take me down your throat? Would that be fine, too?”

“Yes,” she blurts, and ends up blushing and looking away. “If that’s what you want.”

His laugh is quiet, but coupled with a genuine smile when she risks a glance at him. “What I want?” The grin on his face tilts to something a little mischievous. “What if I want to hold you down and lick you until you cry?” He leans in. “I’d keep going if you cried. I think you’d take what you’re given, wouldn’t you? Because you’re _good._ ” 

She tries not to let her mouth fall open, but past that, she doesn’t have a response for what he’s said. At least not a verbal one. Her body, on the other hand— 

Ben folds his arms over his chest, his amusement at her silence seeming to deepen. “What if I want to see you dripping with cum?” he postulates. “What if I want to teach you how to take me in your ass while I tell you how sweet you are and how well you’re doing? What if I want you to eat all your meals while warming my cock?”

He says it all so easily, she can’t believe it he’s saying it. _Ben_ is saying this. The same Ben who turned around in a rush and gave a million apologies and _never_ stopped blushing the one time he accidentally saw her in a towel, years ago.

One of his eyebrows raises at her continued lack of an answer, but Rey is mostly just trying to breathe. 

Gently, he says, “Rey. These things are part of what I’d consider _starting slow,_ so if that isn’t what you had in mind, you need to tell me now so we can establish what you mean by _anything._ ” His hand finds hers; a single one of his fingers soothes a feather-light path over the back of her hand. “If you tell me I can use you for the week and teach you whatever I want, and take care of you as I see fit, I’m going to take you up on that offer. I love that you’re willing to let someone take care of you, and I’m happy you trust me, but be sure.”

She can only muster a nod in response.

“Words, Rey. There’s no room for miscommunication here.”

“Yes,” she stammers. “Yes. To all of that.”

“Okay. If we were doing this for more than a week, I’d want a better list of things you’re okay with, but this works for now.” He hums, like he’s just remembered something. “How do you feel about the stoplight safe-words?”

“Sure, but…” Rey pauses, tilting her head at him. “You know a lot about this. Is this a thing you do often?”

“What? Have kink-themed-vacations with my friends?” he laughs. “No, this is a first. But I might know a bit about something adjacent and… less soft. And I read a little after you fell asleep. Googling with one hand wasn’t easy, but it felt necessary.” He pauses. “Do you want to call me anything specific? Should I call _you_ anything specific?”

She rests her elbows on her knees, perching her chin in her hands. “Can I just call you _Ben_ for now? It feels more natural.”

His smile widens, and _gods_ it feels like forever since she’s seen him smile this much. It’s intoxicating. “That’s good. I’m not sure how I feel about the alternatives, anyway. But can I make a request? Are you opposed to pet names? Like _Sweetheart?_ I prefer them, but if you’d rather not—”

“Oh.” The word from his mouth makes her flush. “That’s good. Pet names are fine.”

“I won’t set rules right away,” he says softly. “I just have one. Maybe I’ll add more as we go, but for now, my only rule is that you need to be transparent with me. No making me guess how you’re feeling. No assuming I can read your mind. Being submissive is harder than people realize, and we need to stay on the same page, so I want to know when you’re overwhelmed, upset, vulnerable—anything, even if you think you shouldn’t feel that way. Okay?”

A sense of contentment settles in her chest as she nods, and they both go quiet.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I think that’s everything. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

Their eyes meet, and something about this—this moment, this conversation, this _day—_ feels like the beginning of something that can’t be undone.

How is she supposed to leave this resort after a week and not feel strange during their catch-up lunches? Will they pretend this never happened? Rey’s not sure she can.

“Okay,” she echoes anyway.

Ben’s mouth quirks. “Okay.”

She can’t not stare at that mouth. It’s lush and looks perfect for kissing. When she realizes he’ll probably end up kissing her at some point, her heart pounds. Any calmness she’s felt disappears in an instant.

How is she supposed to kiss him again and go back to pretending she doesn’t want more? It was hard enough doing that the first time.

“You know,” he hums, oblivious to the way her mind’s spinning. “According to what I read, it’s common for this dynamic to be from a distance. Plenty of people who take part in this don’t have sex, or even kiss.”

Rey refuses to let her shoulders sag. She fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, feeling like she’s just downed a few cups of strong coffee.

“I—I’ve heard that.”

“But some do.”

She meets his eyes, breathing out, “Hopefully.”

It’s a little embarrassing, the wolfish grin he’s biting back. He nods to her plate. “Finish your breakfast. You’re scheduled at the spa in an hour. I have some errands to run, so meet me back here when you’re done. Maybe we’ll take dinner in, depending on how you’re feeling.”

He falls into the role so easily it’s disarming.

“But all the things you mentioned—”

“Be patient,” he laughs. His hand finds hers again, his thumb soothing over the middle of her palm. “I want you relaxed first.”

Rey swallows. “I guess you’d know best.”

“I would, wouldn’t I?” he asks lowly. “Does that mean you’ll _listen?”_

“Yes,” she breathes, taking in the way his expression warms. “But… do you mind this? This is a vacation for you, too.”

For a moment, Ben stares at her like she’s an absolute moron. 

“I can safely say this will make my _Top Five Vacations_ list,” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do I enjoy the fact that you’re letting someone take care of you? _Yes._ Am I glad it’s me?” 

Then, in a hush, “Very much so.”

~*~

It’s mid-afternoon by the time she wanders back to the room. Her day almost went differently; upon arriving at the resort’s spa, she was informed of all the treatments Ben had booked overnight, and at first she was _less_ than pleased. Money isn’t tight for her anymore, but she’d studied the spa’s list of services and prices online when booking the week’s vacation, and she’d decided to indulge in a single hour-long massage. That was _plenty_.

But it seemed Ben disagreed. At first, she’d panicked and insisted the woman at the spa’s counter had the wrong info, but a single text from Ben—something along the lines of _you said you’d let me take care of you, so behave—_ made her reconsider. So now, after an hour-and-a-half hot stone massage, a _Vitamin C Brightening_ facial, a hydrating body wrap and really, just more indulgences than she’s _ever_ thought of taking part in, Rey is so relaxed she may as well be sleep-walking. 

Part of her is shocked she allowed him to spend so much money, but it seems to falls under the category of him doing what he wants. The concern flits from her mind as she drops onto their bed with her _Art for Mindfulness_ coloring book of landscapes and a small pouch of well-sharpened colored pencils.

He’d said to wait for him while he wrapped up his errands, so she turns on the room’s TV and clicks through channels until she finds some mindless reruns of an old show. Readjusting on the bed, she ends up on her belly, facing the TV and the door, with her knees bent and her feet in the air.

The landscapes are her favorite. Maybe it’s just because there’s more to them than the mandala-style coloring books, or maybe it’s that she doesn’t have to stick with a specific color-pattern. Or maybe it has something to do with how she never left the run-down town of Jakku until she was sixteen and taken in by Maz, and she loves seeing unfamiliar landscapes and cities. Maybe it has something to do with how much she likes all the different parts of the picture where she can use _green._

The colored pencils are one of her indulgences. They aren’t the sort that come all in a box together—these were hand-picked, bought one color at a time. Of the thirty options she allowed herself, eight are different shades of green, ranging from pale pistachio to kelly, sea-foam to evergreen.

Rey gets absorbed in it, losing track of time, sinking further into the cushion-y bed and the colors.

At the beep of an electronic lock and the slide of a card-key, her attention jerks to the door. Her eyes go wide at the sight of Ben, though he’s the only person she’d be expecting. He pauses there in the entry holding an unlabeled black plastic bag, the corner of his mouth tugging up when he sees her on the bed clutching _chartreuse,_ her favorite shade. 

The dress he picked for her this morning is an airy light yellow one she can wear without a bra—a major bonus—but it’s riding up the back of her thighs with the way she’s resting, and his eyes not-so-subtly scan her. He doesn’t seem to do a double-take at her chosen activity, though it’s possible he’s too distracted by the dress.

She pushes further up on her elbows. “Where’d you go?”

He clears his throat, meeting her eyes. “Out.” A beat passes. He seems disinclined to explain further, seeming more interested in watching how she swings her feet back and forth in the air. “Having fun?”

“Mhm,” she hums, tugging her lip between her teeth. “Today was nice,” she finally says. “I wasn’t expecting all of that. You didn’t have to, you know. I feel kind of bad that—”

His smile warms as he interrupts, “New rule. Unless I ask for or do something you consider a limit, no second-guessing what I want, even if it seems one-sided. If I want to do something nice for you—if I want to _spoil_ you—the only response I’ll accept is a _thank you._ ”

There’s an undercurrent of something to his words, and it only gets more obvious at the way his eyes flick over her.

“Okay. Thank you,” she whispers. “Is there anything you want… now?”

Strangely, his answer is, “I want you to keep having fun.” He gestures to the coloring book resting on the bed in front of her, adding, “I don’t want to see your eyes off that.”

She swallows, but does as asked, reluctantly taking her eyes off him to focus back on the simple landscape of a valley full of flowers, lit by a sunset. It’s a struggle to keep her attention on the page—she fidgets on her stomach, crossing and uncrossing her feet in the air. It isn’t fear or discomfort; it’s _nerves._ She doesn’t know what he’s planning, doesn’t even know if he’s planning anything. As she gets back to her chosen activity, her thighs clench at the thought.

While staring at the page, she hears him tread across the carpet. The bag he came in with lands on a table, and light to the bathroom clicks on. Gnawing at her lip, she tries— _really_ tries—to focus on shading flower stems, tries to make a good-faith effort to do what he wanted. 

He wanted her to relax. He’ll be _happy_ if she relaxes, he’ll tell her she’s _good._

Rey focuses on that and on taking deep breaths, even as she hears what sounds like boxes opening and the sound of running water.

She breathes. In through her nose, out through her mouth, over and over until the pounding feeling in her chest calms. Slowly, she considers the half-colored page before her. She slides her fingers over the softness of it, over the wax of the colors. It’s strange, the way she zones out and gets lost in the feeling of the paper against her fingertips. She zones out so completely, the slide of hands up the outside of her bare thighs feels like a brushing along the side of her consciousness. 

Ben’s mouth presses to her calf, near her ankle, tugging her to the present as she startles. She glances back just in time to see him kiss her there, his profile maybe one of the most beautiful sights she’s seen. His hair falls in front of his face and everything but the sight of him feels distant and blurry, even as he says against her skin, “Eyes on the page, sweetheart.”

When she realizes his hand is large enough to wrap around her ankle, Rey feels a little lightheaded, a little stunned.

It feels impossible to look away from him, but she does. He keeps touching her, like he’s coaxing her to relax, or like he’s exploring. None of his touches seem meant to grab her attention, none of them seem to be purely for pleasure. He traces an ancient scar at the side of one knee; he skims fingertips over the swell of her calf. He hums, just as he brushes over a spot on her outer thigh she knows is freckled.

When he runs a few fingers over the back of her knee, Rey lets out an unavoidable burst of laughter. 

Ben pauses and snorts. “How did I not know you were ticklish?”

She shrugs in response, trying not to snap _Chartreuse_ while she clutches it in her hand, biting back more laughter.

The laugh dies in her throat when he grasps her thighs, just over her knees, and carefully pulls her closer to the edge of the bed. She steadies herself on her elbows and focuses on the landscape. He said not to take her eyes off the page. It’s half-finished, and she’s got a few trees in the distance to finish up, along with a sunset.

His hands leave her there, with her bent knees resting just at the end of the bed, and Rey swaps _Chartreuse_ for a lovely shade of purple, deciding to work on the sunset first. Broader shading seems like a better choice than detail work, especially with the way his touches might startle her.

It takes the sudden and unabashed spread of her legs for it to register, what he’s about to do. He spreads her thighs, runs his hands up them without hesitation. There’s no preamble. No slow build. Just the feeling of his hands traveling further and further up her legs until one slides all the way up, cupping the entirety of her still-covered cunt.

Her once-calm breathing stutters.

His hand is so warm, so massive he can hold all of her. For a moment, she struggles to grasp that it’s _Ben_ doing this, and with so little hesitation. A groan falls from his lips as he grazes fingers over her, teasing through the cotton of her admittedly boring panties. It’s a feat not to push back against his hand. 

Rey closes her eyes, taking a minute to herself. There’s a thing she does to relax—one of the various methods she’s found online, where she tries to focus on each part of her body, one part of a time, and tries to release the tension in it. She starts with her toes, imagines the stress flowing out, and travels up her calves, up her thighs, but _utterly_ fails when she arrives at where Ben’s fingers are rubbing up and down the gusset of her panties.

He hasn’t even taken them off her yet. The slide of his fingers is slow and light, a gentle massage of her labia, and Rey can’t help but wonder if there’s a noticeable damp spot. She tries not to whimper or whine when he traces along the gusset edge, brushing along her bare skin, and just as she’s about to ask, just as she’s about to consider begging, his hand disappears. Fingers hook into the band on either side of her hips, under the bunched up skirt of her dress, and he slides them down, lifting her bottom half just enough to ease them down her legs.

She hears them drop to the floor before Ben steps away.

 _Mulberry._ That’s the color in her hand now, a deep purple with reddish hints that’ll blend well with the pinks of a sunset if she uses a light hand to shade. Rey hones her attention in on the shading, trying to avoid harsh lines as she fills in the edges with a low, wide angle. When her body clenches around nothing, she shivers, and feels so _so_ empty. It’s tempting to reach down and grind against her own palm or dip her fingers inside herself, but she grips the pencil in her hand instead.

Maybe if she’s good, he’ll come back.

There’s the sound of something landing on the bed, maybe by her waist, but she wouldn’t be able to see what it is without craning her neck back or to the side.

Focusing on the page in front of her is the only thing that stops her from panting when he returns to her, spreading her with no warning. She swallows thickly, shading with as much care as she can manage, even as he finds how wet she is. Her eyes close as he presses a long finger into her, and she drops her head forward. Maybe it’s the angle, maybe it’s the thickness, maybe it’s the _person,_ but whatever it is, it’s more than she expected.

“Such a _mess._ You’re soaked,” he breathes, as though it’s a surprise. He strokes inside her, _explores_ her. “Is this for me?”

Rey nods, shivering at the awe in his voice.

He doesn’t add a second, doesn’t massage where she wishes he would, doesn’t really do anything she expects. His finger stays mostly stationary inside her, only easing in and out of her once in a while, even as she clenches around it desperate for more. His free hand grazes the back of her thigh, wandering up to squeeze the cheek of her ass.

She can’t help the way her hips roll back, seeking any friction he—

Ben tsks. “Didn’t I tell you to focus on what’s in front of you? I thought you’d be good for me. Don’t you want to be?”

The sound that escapes her throat is needy, a strangled gasp as his fingertip slides between her cheeks, over the cleft of her ass. For the briefest moment, she feels a _little_ scandalized. He hasn’t kissed her yet, hasn’t even gotten her off, and her cheeks burn to an unprecedented level as both hands leave her—she hears something uncapping, and nearly jumps at the dripping of what she can _only_ assume is lubricant. 

He circles the thick liquid around and over her cleft, making her eyes widen at the feeling of being touched there.

“Have I told you,” he starts with a hum, “What a nice ass you have? Have you ever taken someone here?”

“No,” she whispers.

“That’s okay. I’ll start with the smallest one.”

His words register a moment later, just as he presses something against her previously untouched hole. A whine slips past her bite-swollen lips. 

“I need you to relax for me.” He trickles more of the thick liquid onto her, carefully easing the toy in, just a fraction of an inch. “It’s a little one,” he promises. “And I’m using _lots_ of lube, but if anything hurts or if it’s uncomfortable, let me know.”

It’s hard to relax. She and Rose have talked about anal before—a bottle of wine into a girls' night—and her friend confided that she’d tried it once or twice, but never made it past the point of unmanageable discomfort. 

But his hand caresses along her hip, and she remembers it’s _Ben_ and Ben would never hurt her.

So she tries, tries to focus on letting go of all the tension she’s feeling. She shades in more of the sunset, not letting herself obsess over the way something’s sliding into her, spreading her bit by bit. There’s a point where she manages to relax, and her body accepts it with a level of ease that’s surprising—there’s a pressure, and when it’s all the way in, sitting inside her like a strange weight, Rey shudders, more at the unfamiliarity and the unexpected _rush_ she feels than anything else. 

Ben leans over her to kiss the back of her shoulder. “There, look how well you took that,” he breathes. “You did so well. How does it feel? Is it uncomfortable?”

His words warm her chest. She shakes her head; the stretch didn’t hurt, not a bit. Relief floods through her, along with a thought that makes her dissolve into ill-timed giggles.

She can feel Ben’s smile against her shoulder. “Something funny?”

“A little,” she laughs. “So… I tell you you can do whatever you’d like with me, and you spend the day buying things to put in my ass? Is that what you were out doing today?”

Ben answers without hesitation. “Have you _seen_ your ass?”

The question only makes her laugh harder.

“You’re lucky I had the self-restraint to start you with a plug,” he teases. “I got three different sizes—we’ll have to work you up to it.” 

_“It?”_

She can hear his smile, even as he nuzzles at the crook of her neck and murmurs, “Me. We’ll have to work you up to taking _me._ I’m not sure how feasible it is in a week, but we’ll see.”

Suddenly it’s not very funny, but more filthy and intimidating. Her voice comes out faint and rough around the edges. “Oh. Um… that makes sense.”

He huffs a laugh against her shoulder, just to the side of her sundress strap. “Finish that picture for me. It’s cute. I want to hang it on my fridge.”

Something about that makes her almost giddy. 

Ben leaves her there on her belly, and she doesn’t bother watching where he walks off to, her fear over what he might be planning fading away. She picks the colors for her sunset and gets to shading and blending, not thinking much of it when she hears the bathroom’s sink running. Absentmindedly, she thinks she hears what might be the buttons of clothing land on the floor, but she’s engrossed in the hues of purples and pinks and oranges.

Even the unfamiliar weight inside her melts into the background, present at the edge of her mind, but not a focus. It reminds her of one of the vibrating toys she owns—the kind that can be worn and set on a low setting. It won’t get her off, probably won’t even get her close, but it’s _there._ It gets her _ready,_ makes her vibrate with anticipation, and every once in a while her body will clench around it unexpectedly, making her breath hitch. 

Just as she swaps from _rose pink_ to _tangerine,_ Ben’s hands wrap around her thighs again—it’s lucky she lifts the pencil when she does. The surprise almost led to a bright orange line down the middle of the already filled in field. He pulls her a little closer to the edge, standing between her thighs.

In the next half-minute, so many things come undone. Shoe laces. Pants zippers. Her sanity. It strikes her, that he’s going to fuck her.

No, not just fuck her—he’s going to _use_ her.

Without warning, he sinks the tip of himself into her cunt. It knocks the breath out of her lungs as her body stretches around him, but he keeps going, further and further at an achingly slow pace even though she’s barely ready. It’s hard to tell if he’s massive, if it’s the plug making him feel that way, or if it’s a combination of the two, but it’s impossible to hold back the little cry that leaves her throat.

With one hand she grabs at the comforter under her, fisting it in the material.

“Almost in, sweetheart,” he hushes, running a hand up under her dress, along her spine, like he’s trying to comfort her. “You’ll take me,” he promises. “We’ll make it fit—you’re _perfect,_ Rey, incredible.”

He stops once he’s all the way in, once his pelvis is firmly against hers. She chokes on a moan, tries to wriggle on him because she _can’t,_ can’t handle how deeply he’s pressed inside her, can’t handle how stretched she is. He caresses down her back, whispering for her to relax, but it’s a struggle just to stay put. 

After giving her a minute to adjust—though she doubts she’d be able to adjust with an _hour—_ he pulls back and sinks in all the way again. Everything feels heightened with the plug, makes her feel like there’s a little current of electricity vibrating over her body, and when Rey tries to go back to the landscape, she has to focus all her efforts on it just to make any progress. He rocks in and out of her slowly, like he’s make a conscious effort not to jostle her.

His pace is _glacial._ It’s torture—the sweetest kind. One minute she’ll be sighing with the release of all the pressure, and the next, she’ll feel like she’s about to burst. The transition between the two is a slow build that makes her throb, makes heat bloom in her body. It’s so painfully slow, she thinks she’ll lose her mind, but it’s only when his hand slides down and under her, fingertips grazing over her clit, that she begs.

“B— _Ben, ah_ — oh, _fuck,_ please—”

“Shh, be good for me,” he grates out, sounding utterly wrecked. “Finish that picture.”

His fingers circle her clit, slippery with the mix of slick and lube that’s dripping down her, and Rey pants, “I can’t.”

“You can,” Ben corrects, his voice thick. “I know you can. You feel like a fucking dream, and you can have more, I promise. But I need you to finish that for me first. I'll stop if you don't.”

Her best answer is a whimper.

It takes _maybe_ two minutes of his tortuously slow thrusts before she puts the rushed finishing touches on it—even a little “<3 Rey” signature goes into the bottom corner before she quickly zips up the pencil bag and closes the book, pushing them away.

In a whisper, she says, “I’m done. Please, _please,_ I need more.”

Ben hums. When he pulls out of her, Rey almost wants to cry, but he grasps her sides, flipping her over onto her back. The skirt of her dress is bunched up and twisted around her waist, and at the sight of his hands spanning her hips, she shivers; he _dwarfs_ her. His throat bobs, even as he pulls her closer, off the edge of the bed, lifting her so she can wrap her legs around his middle. He positions himself, sliding just the head of his cock into her. She almost expects him to push all the way back in, but for the longest time, he just looks. Looks down at how she stretches around him, at how he takes up _so_ much space between her thighs.

She looks, too. Looks at the wrecked, stunned expression on his face, the wide eyes and healthy flush, the muscles that tense as he grips her.

Ben brushes his thumb down until it slides over her clit, and he eases his cock further into her. Her eyes flutter closed as she tries to readjust to the utter fullness, the—

“So sweet, Rey,” he breathes. A hand trails up over her dress, his fingers feathering over her nipples through the fabric. “Look at you.”

It seems ridiculous that he could make her blush with a plug in her ass and his cock in her, but when she sees the way he’s looking down at her, her cheeks burn. He picks up the pace, just a little, and rocks into her, his intense gaze burning into her as she moans.

“How does it feel? Tell me.”

“Full,” she breathes. It’s the best answer she can offer. “Very full.”

Ben leans down over her, nuzzling at the upper edge of her dress, kissing the top of her breast. Against her skin, he pants, “That’s _me_ filling you up, sweetheart. Say it.”

“You— you’re filling me up,” she stammers, reaching to tangle her fingers in his hair. He thrusts harder at that, one hand grabbing her shoulder to hold her in place. “ _Ben,”_ she gasps, “Fuck, it’s like you’re splitting me open.”

“Good,” he says roughly. “Now show me how you touch yourself.”

She nods, whimpering as he stands back up, giving her the space to reach between them and glide her fingers down her labia. She can _feel_ him with her fingers, dragging out of her and pushing back in. Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, she swirls a light path over her clit.

Her head drops back as he takes over, circling his thumb over and over in a way that makes her legs shake around him. With the plug in, everything feels heightened and just… _more._ So much pressure, so much _everything._ Her entire body goes tense, but it’s the incredible tension that comes just before one of those rare, sanity-ruining orgasms she’s only gotten herself to once or twice, and _never_ with a partner.

Rey trembles in his hands, clutching at the comforter under her like it might steady her, but the only thing steadying her is _Ben,_ and the hand that’s clutching onto her side with a bruising grip. He rubs and circles her, sending little quakes through her that ripple out from her middle.

When it hits, it’s the kind of high that bows her back off the bed, the kind that shakes her legs even though she’s squeezing them around Ben—the kind that rips a soundless cry from her mouth.

Ben thrusts harder, working her through it. “ _Yes,_ that’s it, sweetheart,” he pants, and not for a second does he stop his assault on her swollen, sensitive clit. “So good, Rey. Fucking _beautiful,_ look at you. Look up.”

Normally, she’d probably think the long-forgotten ceiling-mirror was tacky, but now, when her gaze flicks up, she almost chokes at the view of herself in Ben’s hold, at the view of him driving into her.

There’s nothing to do but watch. There’s no time to come down, no time to breathe, no time to scoot back or brush his hand away, no time to do anything but let it happen. Nothing to do but take in the squelching, filthy sounds coming from where they’re joined, the slight squeaking sounds of the mattress under her, the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, the inhuman sounds he’s pulling from her mouth.

So it happens, and whether or not it’s a choice, Rey can’t bring herself to care. 

He fucks her, _uses_ her, his pace unrelenting. Overwhelming sensations take over, reducing her to a quivering mess—any thought in her mind begins and ends at every point where he’s touching her. She comes undone again with a sob, biting at her fist, not bothering to wipe at the tears that build in her eyes.

He pushes and nestles _so_ deep inside her, impossibly deep, groaning and flooding her with warmth as she convulses around him. 

Silence slowly returns to the room as he stills.

A quiet hiccup leaves her, and Rey covers her mouth with her hand to silence herself, still twitching with Ben buried inside her. He drops down over her, catching himself on his elbows, and rests his head on her, catching his breath. Her legs squeeze around his middle.

She wraps her arms around him before he can pull away and leave. 

Tears stream from her eyes, and all she can think is how he wasn’t supposed to see her like this, all vulnerable and needy. He wasn’t _supposed_ to see the part where she cries, where she’s desperate for something she can’t name, the part where it ends and she’s alone again.

But maybe she should have realized he’d stay, because Ben doesn’t just stay—he stays _inside_ her, softening while he presses lazy kisses to her skin. He even reaches up, brushing away her tears as though their presence doesn’t bother him.

Somehow, that’s the part that ruins her.

~*~

After he eases the plug out of her and helps her out of her dress, Rey must fall sleep, or maybe she just lets her mind shut off for a bit. At some point, some immeasurable amount of time later, his hands coax her back to the present, back to the room, back to where she’s curled up on the bed. Her eyes are watery as she opens them to find Ben sitting next to her and running a tender hand down the side of her face.

She moves to sit, but realizes she’s wrapped in a blanket. Her mouth tilts in a confused frown.

“Hey,” he says softly. Gesturing to the blanket, he explains, “I didn’t want you to be cold while I drew a bath. I’m going to get in it with you, okay? I ordered room service, too. Got a bunch of appetizers you like to snack on. It should be here in the next hour, so we have time for a bath first.”

He doesn’t wait for her response before he wraps a solid arm around her and tugs her into his arms, letting her curl up under his chin. He lifts her like she’s nothing.

The tub he’d planned to sleep in not twenty-four hours earlier is full of hot, soapy bathwater, and she sinks into it, leaving the blanket in a pile on the floor. She doesn’t say a word, not even when Ben follows her in and draws her into his hold and sideways onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. Without hesitation, Rey rests the side of her head against his shoulder; she’s not even sure she’s felt exhaustion like this, even when she was working multiple jobs and taking a full course load.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmurs against her forehead, just before kissing her there. She stays quiet, but he nuzzles her, squeezes her tighter. He prods, “The part _I_ like about this arrangement is that I get to take care of you. That’s not just physical. Talk to me. Maybe it’ll help. Transparency, remember?”

It’s hesitant, but Rey nods. “I always feel alone after,” she whispers. “This is the first time someone’s stayed. Sorry, I know I’m being clingy.”

It doesn’t seem possible, but he holds her even closer when she says that. He strokes his thumb over her upper arm and glances down at her with a frown. “You think you’re being clingy? Rey… that’s not what this is. It also isn’t something to apologize for. I would argue that it’s necessary. If you _ever_ do this, you should expect to be cared for after.”

“Oh?”

Ben hums. “If you want someone to take away your control, it helps to know they care about you.” His mouth tilts up. “Doesn’t it?” At her nod, and her nuzzling into the crook of his neck, mostly so he won’t see her face, Ben adds, “I know it’s hard for you to be so vulnerable. It’s hard for anyone, so I’m guessing, for you, it feels impossible. The least I can do is make it easier. That’s why we’re in the bath, why I’m going to wash and braid your hair, and why I’m going to feed you dinner.”

For a moment, all she can do is lean back and stare at him, her eyes a little wide. “You are?”

He smiles so gently at her, it’s hard to believe. “I said I’d take care of you.”

It’s almost enough to make her cry again.

Ben shakes his head at her, almost in disbelief, but he just kisses her forehead again and carries on, as though it’s _normal_ for the two of them to be in a tub together discussing this. He gestures to the TV. “Bath first, then a movie with dinner.”

For a while, she just lets herself _feel_ while surrounded by the warmth of the water, and of Ben _._ She lets her body go lax against him as he uses the tub’s handheld wand to wet her hair, and as he massages fancy summer rain scented shampoo through her hair, followed closely by conditioner. He moves her as he needs to, tilting her head back while he leaves kisses along the tops of her shoulders.

“Your hair is so healthy.”

When she finally speaks, it’s in the barest hint of a whisper. “I use the conditioner you suggested.”

“Good. I’m going to braid it before you go to sleep.”

It isn’t a question, just a statement, and it’s a relief knowing he’s got her. 

Rey nods, falling quiet again as he brings her back against his chest and starts washing her, sliding a soapy cloth between her breasts. He works the cloth down her, but pauses, abandoning the washcloth so he can reach down and wriggle his fingers at the back of her knee.

She chokes out a laugh, thrashing a little in the water, but Ben’s arm stays solid around her as he tickles her. Any tension, any remaining nervousness dissolves as she bursts into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” he snorts. He hums, stopping in his torture, and turns his face, murmuring into her ear, “Is this what you needed, Rey? Is this what you had in mind?”

She lets her head drop back against his shoulder, and the answer comes as easily as breathing, and through the most genuine grin she’s given anyone, maybe in forever.

“I think it’s more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)
> 
> PS if you want to misuse a coloring book, here's the one [Rey has](https://amzn.to/2EDUXnl).


	3. Chapter 3

Her official _property of Holdo Engineering_ laptop boots up quickly, before she even has time to change into whatever Ben’s picked out for her to wear for the day. Rey sets the laptop on the suite’s tiny two-person table and takes a seat, clicking through a slew of emails while she sips her morning coffee and snacks on the chocolate-covered strawberries they stashed in the suite’s mini-fridge. 

She’s turned on the automatic reply emails, but it’s hard to resist the urge to check in and make sure things are continuing smoothly without her. Reading through the seventy-two new emails, she sorts out the junk and flags things to reply to or work on, and absentmindedly plays with the tail end of her fresh braid, damp from the shower she just left.

Ben insisted on them showering together when they woke, so much so that he practically carried her in when she was too cozy to leave the bed. The recent memory of him massaging her shoulders under the water and kissing the back of her neck, winding his arms around her and nudging her legs apart, pressing her front to the shower wall as he filled her and— 

Her stomach flips as she wraps the fluffy resort-provided white robe tighter around herself.

Each of Amilyn’s emails starts with the expected _don’t answer this until you come back from vacation_ disclaimer, but that just means her workload on Monday will be a nightmare. She quickly falls down a rabbit hole of _just one more email,_ so distracted by the screen in front of her that she doesn’t hear the door open.

“Rey,” a voice says lowly. “What are you doing?”

She’s right in the middle of typing a reply to Amilyn that _no,_ she doesn’t mind working over vacation, when Ben’s voice takes on a sternness that catches her attention. “Tell me you aren’t working.”

He walks over to the table and sets the breakfast he was out getting—bagels and coffee—and takes the seat across from her. Her eyes flick to his over the laptop. 

“Just answering a few emails before they build up,” she shrugs, briefly staring at his arms folded over the straining white t-shirt stretching around him. “I think it’ll only take an hour, so—”

“To clarify,” he interrupts, “You plan to work while on vacation? Is there an emergency? Something that can’t wait until Monday?”

Rey frowns. “Well… no.”

For a moment, he works his mouth, as though he’s reviewing her _no discipline_ request. He hums, giving a little shake of his head. “You’re terrible at relaxing. If I do anything this week, it’ll be to teach you how.”

“I know how to relax!”

He bites back a grin. “No you don’t. And don’t back-talk, sweetheart.”

Rey goes quiet, staring him down over the laptop. He hasn’t told her to put it away yet, but seems to consider it. Offering a compromise, she says, “Why don’t I finish replying to the ones I’ve flagged? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Actually… reply to all of them if you want,” Ben shrugs. “I hope you do.” Then, casually, “Do you have an extra hair elastic?”

It’s an odd question, but she’s too happy he’s okay with her working to think much of it. With a nod, she tugs the scrunchie holding her braid in and tosses it to him across the table before she zones out into her email again. She distantly notices him snorting at the scrap of lilac fabric before using it to put the top half of his own hair up, tugging it out of his eyes, but then a new message from one of the interns pops into her inbox. It isn’t until she startles at her chair being moved _with her in it_ that she realizes the conversation went far, far too easily.

Ben turns her chair a little to one side, so her legs aren’t fully under the table, but she can still access the computer.

Blinking at him, Rey asks, “Um. Didn’t you say I could reply to all of them?”

“Oh, I _encourage_ you to reply to all of them,” he clarifies, but the hint of mischief in his tone implies more. The _more_ becomes apparent when he kneels in front of her. “Go ahead, Rey. Answer all the emails you want.”

Her breath catches when he tugs at the tie of her robe. His hands curl around the back of her knees as he readjusts her, pulling her to sit closer to the seat’s edge. 

When he starts kissing at the inside of her bare thighs, her cheeks burn.

“What are you doing?”

“I assumed it was obvious,” he mutters against her skin. He stops, rests his chin on her thigh, and glances up at her from the floor—a _hell_ of a sight she never expected to see. “I’m going to eat you out.” He pauses, eyes narrowing at her, just before a massive grin spreads across his face. “Are you blushing? You realize we’ve had sex now, right? You _were_ in the shower just now, weren’t you? We’re going to do a lot more by the end of the week, so it’s a little late to be shy.”

Stammering, she gestures to the screen. “But— I— but what about my work? You said I should keep going.”

Ben nods, making her shiver as he gets closer, nuzzling his face between her thighs. “You should,” he mumbles, the soft vibration of his voice landing against her skin. “But I’m going to do this while you do. At least _one_ of us should be enjoying this vacation.”

“Oh.”

She swallows, flushing a deeper red; her robe falls further open when he lifts one of her legs over his shoulder and clutches her ass, holding her to his face while he dives in and starts to lick. It seems impossible that it’s _Ben_ licking stripes over her cunt, even as she stares down at him, wide-eyed. There’s just… so much to stare at. The broad shoulders taking up a massive span of space between her legs, the long, shiny hair caught up in her velvety scrunchie, the arms flexing with the way he squeezes her cheeks, probably supporting more of her than the chair is.

One of her hands lingers near her keyboard, like it hasn’t gotten the message that work is not nearly as interesting as the sight of Ben sucking her clit between his lips. With the other hand, she can’t help but reach down, brushing along his temple, smoothing the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone while he works his jaw, thoroughly kissing and sucking at her.

His gaze flicks up to hers, and he slows, licking gently while those dark eyes watch her chest rise and fall.

An overwhelming sense of awe sinks into her. That’s half the reason she needs to touch him, and why her lips part in disbelief when she does—this seems more like a fantasy she’d concoct with her head thrown back on a pillow and a toy buzzing between her legs.

Rey doesn’t realize she’s staring and starting to pant until he pulls back, raising a brow at her. 

He licks _her_ from his lips.

“What happened to working, sweetheart?”

She clears her throat, tries to catch her breath. “Right. Yeah.” She turns her shoulders more toward the laptop. He’s _teasing_ her. Looking away is almost impossible, but he seems to want to see how long it will take her to give in, and that’s more than enough to make her determined to empty her inbox.

“I’m… getting to it,” she says, as casually as she can manage. “Just taking my time.”

He hums, and it’s a struggle not to moan when his soft, warm mouth finds her again. He thrusts his tongue into her, flattens it as he licks up, points it as he swirls around her clit, flicks it across every sensitive spot he can find, and Rey can barely type out a single response to someone before heat blooms low in her belly. 

Rey bites her mouth closed. She tries not to pant, tries not to do _anything_ but type and click. 

Ben only seems to grow more enthusiastic, like her feigned disinterest works for him somehow, and the only sane thought in her mind is something along the lines of _thank god for spellcheck._

It’s a small point of pride that she makes it through three emails, all heavily proof-read, before her thighs shake. She tenses, breathing slowly, and focuses in on a _to-do_ list she’s typing up for herself. If she can reply to maybe four more, then forward a couple to Amilyn’s assistant, and check in with the interns, that should be— 

Whatever Ben does, some sort of twisting flick over her clit, forces a choked moan from her mouth before she can click _send._ She grips onto an arm of the chair, squeezing her eyes closed.

He _stops._

The whine that slips from her is almost… distressed. She looks down at him, confusion overtaking her near-high. “I— I was almost there. Why did you—”

Ben sits back on his heels and interrupts in a tone so pleased, it feels like a betrayal. “Answer your emails, Rey.”

“But—”

“Answer your emails.”

Once she turns back to the laptop with a whine and a petulant frown, he starts kissing his way back up her inner thighs, this time only gripping her ass with one hand. The other comes between her legs just as she clicks _send_ on one email and sighs at the three new ones that pop in, one of which is marked _high importance._

A finger presses into her, and Rey has to bite the inside of her mouth hard enough that it hurts just to _not react._ His tongue traces little patterns around her and he works a second finger in, not nearly as oblivious to her struggle as Rey wishes. She squirms on his fingers, pressing herself more firmly to his mouth.

Something flutters in her chest, but she swallows and tries to fan herself for a minute, just a _minute_ longer, just one or two more emails— 

Ben doesn’t seem to mind. He hums against her again, and she burns a hole into her inbox with how intensely she tries to focus. The two thick fingers inside her scissor and thrust, and just as Rey’s about to give up and shove the laptop aside, Ben pulls away again.

“No, don’t, please,” she breathes, abandoning the laptop to reach down and hold the back of his head, gently pulling him back to her. “Fuck, _please—”_

A soft laugh slips from him before his entire mouth covers her like his goal is more _devour_ than _lick._ Leaning back in the chair, Rey moans, letting her other hand leave the laptop in favor of holding the back of his neck. She tries to widen the space between her legs, draping the one that isn’t on his shoulder over the arm of her chair; he seems to take that as a sign that she wants more, and she does. She wants more; she wants _everything_ when it comes to him.

His head rests on her thigh as he fucks her with two thick fingers.

“But what about your work?” he murmurs, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Or… do you think maybe you’d rather enjoy your vacation instead?” 

Her voice is breathy. “Yes, please, that’s—”

“Shut the laptop now and we’ll find out how many fingers you can take,” he promises. “Shut it now, promise you’ll put it away while we’re here, and you can come.”

Rey whimpers as his two fingers curl inside her, rubbing hard. She nods quickly, closing the laptop without a second thought.

“Promise you’ll put it away for the week unless there’s an _actual_ emergency.”

“I promise, I promise.”

“No work calls. No emails. No checking the email app I _know_ you have on your phone. Before we leave the room today, that laptop is going in the safe and staying there.”

She nods again, choking out a, “Please, anything, just… _please._ ”

Ben’s grin presses low on her belly. “Good. Let’s see how three fit.”

It knocks her breath out, stretching her as he eases a third in—it seems impossible, even though she’s nearly dripping onto his hand. Rey stares down at the hand between her legs, at the thickness of the three fingers pushed tight together and pressed inside her. She shudders out a breath.

Ben’s staring, too, but his pace doesn’t change. It’s a slow in and out, so tight she whimpers at the strain of getting past his knuckles. 

“I bet you could work up to more, eventually,” he murmurs. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it.” 

He leaves a gentle, absentminded kiss low on her stomach, then straightens his posture as he kneels and continues fucking her with his fingers. He’s almost level with her face, almost at a perfect height to kiss her while she sits, but all he does is give her a soft smile.

Rey pants under his ministrations, her breathing heavy and erratic while she’s so close to begging him to go faster or use his mouth again. Every breath out his name; there’s nothing else in her mind but him.

“I’m happy you closed the laptop,” he says thickly. “I know it isn’t easy to step away.” 

If he expects a sensible response, he’s out of luck. Her head falls to rest on the back of the chair she’s in, her chest heaving as she rolls her hips, so close to slipping off the chair. There’s no point in her robe now, but when Ben nudges it aside to press his mouth to her breast, she shivers. He nibbles and sucks, licks and devours, teasing moans from her as the fingers in her cunt work her closer and closer.

“Oh, Rey,” he murmurs, just at the side of her breast, “You’re going to come on my hand, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing me.”

She works out a faint, “Yes, please— please don’t stop—”

“So polite,” he huffs, pausing to swirl his tongue around her nipple. “Interesting, how sweet you are when you’re close. You are, aren’t you?” he whispers. “Close?”

She sniffs, her mind spinning at the filthy wet sound of his fingers working in and out of her. Her sanity wanes, and she grips onto the arm of the chair, using her other hand to cling desperately to his shoulder. Rocking back and forth at the seat’s edge, impaling herself over and over on his fingers, it hits hard, shaking her whole body as she cries out. 

Ben’s right there to catch her, supporting her as she slips off the chair; she ends up in his arms, her eyes squeezing shut as it shudders through her.

The room returns slowly as she comes down from it. Little things creep back into her sense of reality, one at a time.

The feeling of his fingers gently pulling from her. The softness of his t-shirt against her bare chest. The press of his mouth to the top of her shoulder. The scent of his shampoo, something citrus-y he brought from home. The safety of the arm slung around her waist, holding her in his lap.

Everything is _Ben,_ like he’s surrounding her completely.

Rey exhales the word, “ _Fuck,”_ as she opens her eyes. “You can keep the laptop for all I care.”

After a pause, Ben laughs lowly. “That took less convincing than I expected.” His arm tightens around her as her hands splay on his chest. She leans back in his hold, unable to stop her ridiculous grin. He chases after her, pressing his forehead to hers, and says through a smile, “I meant it, you know. You deserve an _actual_ vacation. I’m glad you’re taking one now.”

More than anything, she wants to kiss him. His mouth is shiny from her, and after so many years, she still hasn’t gotten the memory of kissing him out of her head. She almost leans in, but sags against him instead, letting all of herself go lax at the sound of his heartbeat.

Without thinking much of it, she sighs out, “Ben, how the hell am I supposed to go back to using hookup apps after this?”

His throat bobs. “You deserve better than hookups.”

“Oh, really?” she huffs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “What do I deserve, then?”

A half-minute, maybe a little longer, passes before he answers. “You know… if you’re this coherent, you didn’t come hard enough. We’ll have to work on that.”

She yelps and laughs as he shifts them, dropping her carefully to the floor before him. He follows her down, sprinkling kisses over her breasts and collarbones.

Part of her sees the distraction for what it is, and wants an answer, a _real_ answer.

But then his pants get pushed down around his thighs and his cock slides all the way into her and his mouth finds that spot at the crook of her neck.

Rey sags under him, letting him overwhelm her and use her, and fuck the questions from her mind.

~*~

"Why did we stop hanging out? Just us?"

Ben asks it while he stares up at the ceiling, tracing patterns along her upper arm. There’s a chill from the room’s central air, but resting atop her long-forgotten fluffy robe spread on the floor and absorbing his body heat combines into something comforting and utterly peaceful.

She swallows. The side of her face rests on his chest, and for a little while, Rey watches her fingers trailing up and down a little patch of pale skin, just over his ribcage.

She could tell him. Could tell him it hurt that first time she saw him with Phas and never stopped hurting, even when she had her own dates to bring to the dwindling and then rare and then fully stopped friend-dinners. She could tell him they stopped hanging out just the two of them because she respected Phas, respected Ben and Phas _both_ and it wasn't right, not with the tumultuous feelings that never left her chest and her gut and every other bit of her. 

She could tell him that eventually she just got a little numb to it and tried not to miss him anymore, because it was her own fault, anyway. She'd been the one with the silly crush and the inexplicable pull to him, she'd been the one who needed to get over it.

"You know me," she murmurs instead. "I work too much."

"Mm. We both did. So, what have you been up to, other than seeing a kink-shaming dick and working whenever you aren’t catching a few hours of sleep?"

"Uh... I think I saw a movie last month."

Ben groans. “Tell me that’s not all.”

She thinks about it, letting a smile seep into her voice. "I visited Maz a couple weeks ago."

"Your old foster mom?” His voice turns curious. “How is she? I didn't realize you kept in contact."

She nods against his chest, sighing when he crosses an arm over himself to cup her face. "Yeah, sometimes. Usually just a call now and then, but this time I visited in-person. She's good. Still managing a house of teenage foster-kids, like some sort of saint. I don’t know how she does it."

Ben's quiet for a moment. He presses his mouth to her forehead, mumbling, “She sounds wonderful.”

“Mm, she is.” Rey pauses, and her instinct is to deflect, to turn the conversation toward him or toward anything else, but something about the way he’s wrapped around her, the way he holds her cheek, the way he doesn’t _prod_ —something about it makes her admit, “Maz was amazing, but I’m not sure she was ever my parent. I think she wanted to be. I think I wanted it too, but by then it was so hard to rely on someone, hard to even trust that they'd still be there in a day or a week. Part of me wanted to stay with her forever and let her smother me and love me, but I don't know, it was too scary. It was scary enough to trust that I'd have a place to sleep while I needed it. Relying on her for more, trusting that she’d stay... I'm not sure I could have done it. The idea of getting attached was terrifying. It makes you so vulnerable.”

Her stomach flips as it hits, that she’s told someone that. There’s maybe even a little wave of nausea, a little fear that runs down her spine at the realization that she’s admitted any of it out loud.

Slowly, Ben rolls over on his side, readjusting them as he rolls to face her, his upper arm turning into her pillow. 

It’s hesitant, like he’s not sure he should proceed, but quietly, he asks, "Is that still something you struggle with?”

She nods, just as his hand leaves her hip. It slides up her abdomen, between her breasts, up until he tilts her chin up so she’s not staring firmly at the center of his chest.

“I’m not good at trusting people,” she whispers.

There’s something swirling in his eyes. Something soft and questioning.

"But you trust me," he says slowly, and it's not a question. It’s more like he’s putting it together for himself. "You trust me like that. You... you're letting yourself rely on me this week, and this whole arrangement makes you vulnerable.” His eyes narrow at her. “Isn’t that hard for you?"

Maybe she could claim it’s because she was desperate to try the kink, maybe she could explain it away by saying she’s just exceptionally tired from literal years of work with almost no time to relax, but maybe they both know that’s not true. Maybe she’s been attached for a long time. Maybe she’s always been vulnerable when it comes to Ben.

"I'm not sure I had a choice in the attachment,” she finally says. Her voice wavers, just a hint. “As far as trusting you won't leave, I think it's more like I hope you won't. But I think being around you has always made me vulnerable, in one way or another."

It’s probably the closest she’ll get to admitting it.

A bit of surprise grows in his expression, maybe mixed with a little of something she can’t define. He pauses, just long enough to make her think he might tilt her chin a little more, maybe lean in and close the gap between them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says instead. He clears his throat and gives her a smile. “Hey, go put a bathing suit on. I’m going to grab a book and some sunscreen—we’re spending the afternoon at the pool.”

And then he rolls away from her and climbs off the floor, leaving her utterly confused at the transition. Rey props up on her elbows, watching as he collects a little pile—two thick white hotel towels, a bottle of sunscreen, a book—and it’s only when he turns back around and sees that she hasn’t started changing that he tilts his head at her.

“Bathing suit,” he prods, gesturing toward the closet she hung all her things in. “I put out the two-piece for you. Pick a sundress to put over it,” he grins. “I like all the ones you brought.”

She stays on the floor, frowning up at him. “Do we have to?”

“We can’t spend the whole week in this room.”

“I’m not sure I see why not,” Rey hums. She stretches her bare legs out in front of her, reaches to her toes, and lets out a long breath. For once, there aren’t really any aches, no weird soreness or tension explained by sleeping over a keyboard or while curled in a ball. “I think I’m starting to like this room _quite_ a bit.”

He stops in front of her, offering a hand out to help her off the floor. There’s a little blush across his cheeks as he says, “Put on a bathing suit and join me.”

Rey pauses, her smile turning fond as she stares at the hand offered to her. “Do you remember the last time you—”

“You slipped on ice outside the building where we had our calc seminar,” he interrupts quietly. “But you still disliked me enough to be annoyed that I tried to help you."

She nods, murmuring, “Yeah, but then you did that thing. That thing where you pulled me up and you brushed back my hair, and kept asking if I was sure I hadn’t bruised anything and you bought me a coffee, and then of course I accidentally took yours instead, but you were _so_ sweet, and—” She stops when she sees the curiosity in his expression. “Um. You just made it really hard to dislike you.”

For a minute, he seems to want to comment, or maybe ask more about that, but he settles on a nod. “I’m glad. Does that mean you’re coming with me? I _hoped_ you’d do what I asked, so—”

Her sigh is playful and dramatic, but she reaches up and takes his hand. “Fine, fine, I’ll come with you.”

He helps her up, twining an arm around her bare waist once she’s standing. She assumes he’s going to let her go, assumes he’s going to rush her to get dressed or maybe scold her for being difficult and sidetracking them, but he doesn’t.

Hesitantly, he reaches up to brush the hair that’s come loose from her braid back behind her ear.

“You know, it was a shame you swapped our coffees,” he hums, like he knows something she doesn’t, some little secret.

“Is that because you felt cheated out of your sugar-bomb caramel nonsense?” Rey teases.

“No, it’s just…” his lips quirk up. “I’d written my number on the side of your cup.”

At that, her eyes widen. Her teasing smile drops as her lips part ever-so slightly. In the mere seconds before Rey replies, she _sees_ it. The nervous texts, the anxiety-inducing first date, the wandering hands and unproductive study sessions, the terrified whispered _I love yous,_ the first apartment together, the— 

In seconds, she sees a lifetime.

“Oh. That is a shame,” she breathes. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“Mm,” Ben shrugs. He presses his mouth to the side of her head. “Come on, let’s swim.”

He says it like he has no idea how heartbreaking it is that she’ll never be able to go back to that moment, never be able to quell her nerves and grab his face outside that calc class and kiss him until he knows he’s hers.

He says it like… 

Like he moved on.

~*~

Sunlight reflects off the pool in a way that might have been blinding an hour or two earlier. By the time they make it into a small private cabana, only walled with soft white fabric on two sides, but still providing decent protection from the sun, it’s a little after two in the afternoon. It’s comfortably hot, but clouds have come in enough to lessen the burning sun. Luckily, this week seems to be an off-week for vacations, and the accommodations must not be popular with families—the pool is only surrounded by a dozen or two people, and aside from a small group of college kids making use of the pool’s bar, it’s quiet. Peaceful, even. 

She drops onto a cream-cushioned reclining beach chair, so thoroughly relaxed her limbs feel like jelly and she doesn’t care enough to ask when he rented them the little cabana. It must have been expensive, but right now, she’s miles away from the Rey who cares and would argue the cost. She’s a little too lost in her thoughts.

Ben seems to notice how pliant he’s made her; there’s a subtle little grin that grows on his face. He clears his throat, holding up a small bottle. “Sunscreen. If you sit up for a minute, I can put it on you.”

“Mm, don’t need it,” she shakes her head. “I like the sun.”

Ben laughs, leaning down over her, and presses an unexpected kiss to her forehead, mumbling, “It’s not up for debate.”

Her nose wrinkles. “It always feels oily. I never burn, anyway.”

“Don’t care. Even tans come with skin damage.” He gestures for her to sit up. “Don’t you want to swim?”

“I mean, _technically_ I didn’t even want to leave the room, but—”

“ _Rey.”_

She sighs again, reluctantly lifting off the chair. Her annoyance at the sunscreen fades as she turns her back to Ben, only to feel his hands smoothing over her. Fingers slide under the ties of her deep green bikini, around her ribcage and just under her breasts, all while he leaves a chaste kiss just behind her ear.

“See,” he murmurs. “Not terrible, is it? Is there a reason you’re being difficult, or is that just fun for you?” 

With her back to him, she still tries not to grin, breathing out, “Sorry. I suppose the sunscreen isn’t terrible. Are you swimming with me?”

“I think I’ll read instead, but I’ll get us something to eat for when you get out.”

He kisses the skin at her neck again. Rey lets out a long breath and closes her eyes while he works sunscreen into the skin of her back, arms, neck, wherever she’ll allow. They’re both quiet the rest of the time he does it, and it doesn’t seem like a figment of her imagination when he slows down, like he wants to take his time. His fingers brush along her shoulder tops.

“You have so many freckles. I wonder if there are any left I haven’t seen,” he muses. “I think I’ll kiss them all before the end of the week.”

She turns her head to the side, her mouth curling into a smile at the little bit of awe in his expression. “Maybe you could start with my mouth. You haven’t kissed me there yet.”

Ben’s lips twitch up, just a hint. “I have, actually.”

Briefly, she remembers a dark closet that was a quiet reprieve from a senior-year party, hesitant hands on her hips, a soft, inexperienced mouth pressing to hers in a way she’s never gotten over, the unstoppable way that kiss turned to something frantic and full of longing and desperation before it was interrupted.

“But that was so many years ago,” Rey teases half-heartedly, leaning back a little toward him. “And it was a game. That doesn’t count.”

“It counted,” he says in a whisper. 

“I think we traumatized poor Finn,” she snorts. “At least you hadn’t managed to get my bra off by the time he interrupted.”

There’s a hint of humor in his voice, a hint of ancient bitterness for the obvious nerves he’d been full of that night. “Not for lack of trying.”

She laughs quietly, turning toward him. Maybe she even leans in. “But that was years ago. Six, seven maybe?”

His eyes wander down toward her mouth. “Go swim. I’m done with the sunscreen.”

For a minute, she wants to ask why he hasn’t kissed her yet. It seems like it shouldn’t be possible to feel rejected by someone who just spent half the day touching her and getting her off, but that feeling sinks in and settles as her smile wanes.

Ben notices in an instant. Something in his expression wavers, but his voice takes on a teasing tone as he presses his forehead to hers. “Be patient, sweetheart. Go swim.” He gestures toward the water. “This is the kind of sunscreen that dries quickly, you don’t need to wait. Get cooled off, I’ll order us something for lunch.”

Part of her grips onto that feeling of rejection, the anxiety and worry that he wants this less than she does, but then his fingers tangle with hers, and his lips kiss a teasing path along her jaw to her ear.

“Stop that,” he whispers. “You’re worrying. Stop it, you’re _relaxing_ this week. Don’t you want to be good?”

She nods, and the smile in his voice is clear when he continues.

“Good. I don’t want to see you do anything but relax, all afternoon. Relax, swim a bit, eat whatever you want and _don’t_ over-think. Do that for me, and I promise you’ll enjoy what I have in mind for tonight.” 

Ben leans back, catching a hand under her chin. Her breath shakes, just a little, as his thumb traces over her bottom lip.

“If you think I’m not going to kiss you before this week is over, you’re very wrong,” he says, and it _hurts,_ because she’s imaging that desperation in his voice, she has to be.

All she can muster is a whisper. “I hope so.”

He smiles, letting go of his hold on her. “Go. Swim. Don’t make me say it again.”

It’s hard to leave him, but once she dips a foot into the cool pool water, she sighs and steps further in. They must have picked an off-week, or maybe some of the other vacationers are off hiking or taking part in other activities—she’s one of the only people in the water. She sinks in up to her neck, letting the end of her braid dampen in the lukewarm water as she swims from end to end, and briefly, her mind wanders toward work and those emails, and the projects and the new-hire she’s still training, and—

A little panic rises in her chest as she treads water. Mixed in with the buzz of chattering vacationers and the sounds of orders being placed at the bar and all the sounds of being _outdoors,_ there’s a little voice in her mind, one that’s anxious and always nervous, insisting things will fall apart while she’s gone. They’ll fall apart and it’ll be impossible to fix it all, and it’ll all be done poorly, and people will hate her for leaving for a week and dumping extra work on them.

She tries going fully under, sitting with her legs crossed on the pool’s shallow bottom, but then her mind just travels to other, scarier things. Things like Ben, and his mouth, and how a week is only seven days and how seven days can feel like seven minutes, and how seven minutes can feel like mere seconds, especially when those seven minutes are spent in a closet with someone you think you might love.

Before she can scream under the water, Rey pushes off the pool’s bottom, pushing her dripping hair from her face as she stands back up and breathes in.

“Hey.”

Her attention snaps to the voice that’s only ever been a comfort. Ben’s sitting at the pool’s edge with his plain black swim shorts and his questioning face, letting his calves and feet dip into the water.

“Hey,” she says, trying to keep the shakiness from her voice. “Are you getting in?”

“Mm, maybe,” he nods. There’s still a little frown on his face as he considers her. “I ordered us lunch—it’s ready if you want to eat, but…” His head tilts. “You look… I don’t know. You don’t look like you’re having a fun time in the pool, I guess.”

Rey steps through the water, propping her elbows on the wall, next to his thigh. “Mm, I was just thinking.”

“Transparency,” he says after a moment. “Remember? Don’t make me guess how you’re feeling.”

A partial truth is better than no truth.

“Worrying about work, mostly,” she shrugs. “Typical stuff. I feel guilty taking time off.”

Ben gives her a disapproving look. He gestures toward their little cabana, replying in a scolding tone, “I’m glad you told me, but now I’m going to feed you lunch and we’re going to get your mind off work.” His expression softens when his hand lands on her forearm. “Seriously, Rey. It would make me very happy if, while we’re here, you stopped worrying about work and any other responsibilities you have.”

She nods, watching as he stands and smiles down at her. 

It takes just a minute to lift herself out of the water, climbing to her feet, but the moment she’s standing, she wraps him in a tight hug.

He sputters hilariously as she buries her face in his chest, trying to get as close to him as she can.

“Rey!” he laughs, “You realize you’re dripping, right?”

“Funny,” she mumbles against his skin, “This is the first time I’ve heard you complain about that.”

She props her chin on his chest, grinning up at him just in time to see him open his mouth, then close it with a smile and blush. “Good point. Is this your way of trying to get me in the water?”

“Mmm, maybe. But I’d rather eat first.”

Ben snorts, acting unsurprised, and he walks her back to the cabana, not letting go despite how soaked she is from the pool. His warmth mixed with the slight breeze and the cooling water on her skin cause goosebumps to raise over her forearms, but Ben wraps a towel around her before she even has a chance to sit down.

There’s a small feast waiting, spread across three plates resting on her lounge. He must have ordered a mix of all their appetizers, plus a fruit and cheese platter. Her mouth waters when she sees it.

“You know you didn’t have to, right?” She glances over at a bottle of champagne she’s sure she doesn’t want to know the cost of. “That looks… expensive.”

Ben’s arm around her tightens. He tilts her face up to him, staring down at her intently. “Be good and stop worrying about things like that.”

“But—”

“Remind me,” he interrupts. “What’s the second rule?”

“Don’t question the nice things you do?”

“And what were you doing?”

“Questioning you,” she mutters, not bothering to hide her slight pout. “But I still—” When she sees the stern look on his face, she stops mid-sentence, clearing her throat. “I still… owe you a thank-you. So, thank you.”

Ben huffs, biting back a grin. “Nice recovery.”

“I mean it, thank you,” she repeats. “I appreciate it, all of this. I’m just… not great at being on the receiving end of so much.”

“You never seem to realize someone should _want_ to do nice things for you.” His arm tightens around her and his thumb caresses over a patch of skin near her hip. “So… rule three,” he says softly. “Stop telling yourself you don’t deserve to be treated like this. You do. You deserve all of it. You deserve a lot more.”

It’s a hard thing to swallow, even when she’s resting on the same lounge as him, bundled in a dry towel in his arms. It’s hard to comprehend, even when he feeds her grapes and strawberries and laughs when she wrinkles her nose at a chunk of mango. 

He smiles wider than she thinks she’s seen, and he whispers things about her being _good_ and _perfect,_ and he tells her he’s proud of her for taking time to enjoy herself, and he insists she stop into the resort’s little shop on the way back up to the room so she can pick out bubble bath and chocolate for later.

Hours later, Ben holds her close in the elevator back to their room. With his mouth pressed to her temple, he mumbles, “You seem happier.”

“I am,” she sighs, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been this happy. I’m really not sure how to thank you for all of this.”

When she says it, he looks down at her with so much fondness in his eyes, with such a hopeful smile, it takes her breath away. Their gazes don’t split apart for the rest of the ride up to their floor, as short as it is.

It’s a hell of a reminder that sometimes, seven seconds can feel like hours, and seven minutes can make you realize you’re in love with your closest friend.

So maybe, Rey thinks with a pang in her heart, seven days can be _enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)


	4. Chapter 4

A small part of her is disappointed Ben doesn’t press her to a wall and start something when they get back to the suite after a long afternoon (and then evening) next to the pool. She’s still in a drying strappy two-piece, covered by a thin pastel green dress that falls to mid-thigh. He could have it all on the floor in seconds, but all Ben does is set their just-purchased chocolate and bubble bath near the tub and say, “Feel like a bath, sweetheart?”

It’s strange. With just over half a week left, she’d hoped he’d want as much of her as he could get. They could spend the rest of their time in this suite feeling his body against hers, giving her time to store up memories of something she… 

Something she could have had forever, maybe.

But it isn’t fear, it isn’t distress at the thought of a ticking clock, that settles in. He sets two fresh towels on the edge of the tub and turns on the faucet, glancing at her for an answer, and it’s…

It’d be easier, Rey realizes. It’d be  _ so _ much easier if he’d bend her over and press her into the mattress and fuck her just how he’d like, because then she wouldn’t have to wonder if she’s imagining the softness in his eyes. She could pretend he’s someone off an app, pretend he’s not  _ him, _ pretend she won’t have to go back to being just his close friend, his long-forgotten might-have-been.

“Rey?” he asks again. “Bath?”

She nods, and waits for him by the door, letting the  _ seven days _ of it all spin through her head, like it’s her new obsession now that he’s taken her laptop away. The water runs, spilling into the tub and filling it, a sort of white noise to her wide-eyed internal panic and never-ending revelation that  _ she could have had this. _ That moment in the elevator when they stared at each other like lovers do, the moments when two people act like they’re all alone even when they aren’t, the soft touches, the comfort of settling into a reality you know will last forever—she could have had it, every second of it.

Rey sinks into the feeling of him taking her hand, focusing all of herself on the way he leads her away from the door, not for a second questioning her silence, not even as he lifts the dress over her head, adjusting her arms to get it off her. Her eyes stay locked onto the stream of running water, the steaming water splashing into the filling tub, even as his fingers—far more dexterous than they were back in that closet so many missed chances ago—untie the straps of her bathing suit.

“What happened?” he asks. His hand lingers at her side, over the bottoms he hasn’t taken off her yet. “Did something happen in the last ten minutes?” His mouth presses to her temple as he mumbles, “You got quiet.”

She clears her throat, trying to snap out of it. “Mm, just tired. Zoned out. Being in the sun all afternoon made me sleepy.”

It isn’t a lie. Not really.

“That’s okay. We’re staying in again tonight, maybe going to bed early so we can go for a hike tomorrow. There are trails we can drive to, just a few minutes away.”

Her mouth quirks. “Does that mean you plan to let us leave the room before noon?”

Ben snorts, huffing, “Maybe.” He bends at the knees to slide the bathing suit bottoms down her legs. She can’t help but watch, can’t help but sigh when he leans in, leaving a brief kiss against her lower belly. Her hand tangles in his hair, holding him there with his forehead resting against her abdomen. His breath feathers over her bare skin, and he kisses her there again and again—slowly, not like he’s going anywhere with it. 

Of all the concerns she had regarding exploring any of this with him, it hadn’t struck her, that  _ this _ would be the hard part.

“Go get in the tub,” he mumbles, but it’s through a grin pressed to her stomach. It sounds more like he’s  _ trying _ to be stern and just can’t bring himself to actually scold her or order her. “I’ll get the bubble bath and join you.”

While running her fingers through his hair, she nods.

The water is hot enough to sting as she steps in. She takes it slow, letting her feet and calves adjust before sitting and bringing her knees toward her chest. She watches Ben pour in a healthy helping of the pink peony-scented bubble bath they got from the resort’s store, and breathes in the subtle sweetness of it as frothy bubbles form. 

He sits across from her, his legs stretching to invade the space on either side of her thighs, and once he shuts the water off, Ben spends a long moment staring over at her, tilting his head like he can read her mind. He works his mouth, that way he used to back in that old calc class when he was trying to figure out how their professor arrived at a particular answer. Maybe he’s torn between different ways to start a conversation and work it to asking why she’s so  _ off, _ or maybe she really isn’t sure what’s going on in Ben Solo’s mind, because the next thing he does is far from what she expects.

With his pointer finger working against his thumb, he  _ flicks bubbles at her. _

Her mouth falls open, but he does it again and again, until she starts laughing. She holds up her hands in defense, but her shoulders shake and her wide smile is inevitable, even as she blurts through her laughter, “Okay, okay, you have my attention! You’re making a mess!”

Ben stops, grinning at her. “Maybe. But I made you laugh.” He lifts a hand through the water, holding it out to her just above the layer of bubbles. “Come here. You’re too far away.”

His lap is a better spot, his arms a comfort she sinks into as she sits sideways on him. Briefly, she’s worried he’ll ask about her, and the truth is, she’s just not sure what she’d say. Rather than risk it, she speaks first.

“How are you doing?” she asks softly, half-present, half-caught up in listening to his heartbeat. “I know you said this would be a distraction, but… how are you feeling? With everything?”

He hums thoughtfully. With one hand, he traces little circles over her hip, under the water. “I’m good. It’s still hitting me that I don’t have reports to hand in, presentations to ready, clients to meet, all of that. Before we came here, I still wasn’t sleeping well. I thought it was sleeping alone that’d keep me up, but it isn’t. I kept waking up, panicking that I had a big meeting I’m not prepared for, or… well. You get it. Your boss seems kinder than Snoke was, but you know what I mean.”

“Work was your life,” Rey sighs. “Still hasn’t sunk in that it’s over?”

His hand squeezes her side. “Not fully, no. It’s also strange to be working with my father now. I worked at the shop in high school, but it’s different now. We went so long without talking, and now I’m spending hours a day with him. It’s strange, but… good strange.”

“Lots of change—good change, but  _ change— _ and you’re struggling to catch up?”

“Yeah. Exactly. I know it’s all good and for the best. Even Phas and I breaking up, that’s for the best, but it’s so much, all at once.”

Rey winces. “Sorry for adding to it.”

“Adding to it? How are you adding to it?”

With a frown, Rey tilts her head back to look at him. “I’d say us spending a week like this together is a slight departure from our normal, unless I somehow blocked out a  _ lot _ from college.”

“Actually…” Ben stops, letting out a quiet huff of a laugh. “This has been the most normal part of it.”

She’s not sure what to make of that, not sure whether to be flattered or confused, so she just  _ rests.  _ Rests against him, curling her head under his chin while she closes her eyes and tries to soak it all in. At some point there’s a washcloth, a hand working it over her body. Eventually there’s shampoo and conditioner and another braid placed with nimble fingers, but her eyes stay closed and her thoughts begin and end with the beat of his heart and the feeling of being  _ his. _

Maybe he talks to her, maybe he just hums something she doesn’t know the name of, but Rey doesn’t process much until he tilts her face toward his and kisses the tip of her nose as she scrunches it. 

“How do you feel about sleeping early, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice full of a sweet fondness she hopes she isn’t imagining. “I think I’m going to read in bed, but you seem like you could fall asleep now.”

Rey nods, opening bleary eyes to meet his. 

“Okay,” he says softly, his mouth curling in a little smile. “Early night it is.”

She doesn’t gasp, doesn’t yelp or panic when he lifts her out—his hold is solid, and she  _ trusts _ it. He doesn’t make her feel like a nuisance, not even when he helps dry her off and carefully tugs one of his worn gray cotton t-shirts over her head.

Staring at the shirt and the way it hangs to her thighs, Rey asks thickly, “You want me to sleep in your shirt?”

He pulls the drain to the water, glancing back at her. “Yes.”

“You’re… giving me your shirt to wear,” she repeats.

Ben walks back over to her with a curious expression. “It’s a shirt, Rey.” Then, quietly, “I like seeing how big it is on you. I like you in my clothes.”

He kisses her forehead, and Rey bites her mouth closed to stop herself from trying to kiss him properly.

She falls asleep to the warm glow of his bedside lamp, her arm splayed across his stomach and her face nuzzled into his side while he reads, propped back against a thick pillow. She falls asleep wondering what it meant, Ben calling this the most normal part of his life’s upheaval. She falls asleep wondering what it means, him liking her in his things. 

She falls asleep wondering what might have happened, had she not accidentally switched those coffee cups.

~*~

Rey doesn’t usually dream. Or, if she dreams, those dreams are the sort nobody wants. The “Oops, I’m at work without pants” dreams, or the “What do you  _ mean,  _ I have a presentation this morning?” dreams. They’re never sweet, never soft. Never usually the sort that force her awake with panting and an urge to grab one of her toys. Not… usually. Not for a while, at least.

Tonight, that’s different.

It’s a deep sleep, the kind that could continue through an alarm, and it’s the kind of heavy dream that makes her dream-self wonder what’s real and what’s not. And gods, does she wish it was real.

She’s still in what she fell asleep wearing—his shirt, and only his shirt, bunched up under her chest. She’s on her side, not curled in a ball, and that’s her first sign that the body behind her is  _ Ben’s. _ It has to be him. Otherwise, even in her dreams, she sleeps in a tight bundle. Otherwise, even in her dreams, she sleeps alone.

There’s a rush of sensation, of different feelings and senses that coalesce and wrap around her. Weight shifting on the mattress, thighs pressing to the back of hers, fingers sliding between her legs and breath falling at the back of her shoulder, even the scent of the peony bubble bath and the sound of his quiet groan. Sinking into the dream, Rey sighs, the sound slipping into a whine when he reaches up under his shirt to her breasts, stroking his fingers over her like he’s  _ petting _ her, then kneading, pinching gently.

Her mind drifts in and out of the dream, interspersing her sleepy thoughts with the feeling of fingers pushing inside her or curling up and carefully along her throat. His hands are all over her, holding her and keeping her right where she is, as if she’d ever move or leave. He plays with her like she’s his latest toy, like she’s his and the truth is, she  _ is, _ and all she can do is hope he knows how much of her he has. Even in her sleep, even in her dreams, she’s his.

It’s too good to be real, but there’s a point—the moment he lifts one of her legs back over his, giving himself the space to slide his cock along her folds… that’s when a sleepy little sound leaves her mouth, and when Ben whispers, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

He eases inside her, just enough to open her up, huffing a laugh against the back of her shoulder as she mumbles something nonsensical. 

It still doesn’t feel quite real, not until he goes a little further, working his cock into her bit by bit, making room for himself where there’s barely enough. Her breath stutters, her eyes cracking open blearily to the warm orangey hues of early-morning sunlight peeking through the edges of the suite’s curtains.

She hardly dares to whisper his name, too afraid to find out it really is a dream. Still, she murmurs, “Ben?”

His palm flattens against her belly, holding her in place so he can push all the way in, wriggling his hips against her, just enough to be sure he couldn’t possibly be deeper.

When she says his name again, it’s in a breath, no longer a question, just… disbelief. “Ben?”

Ben nuzzles at her neck as she whimpers and tries to grind back into him. He hushes her, “Shhh. Relax, just—” He readjusts her leg, dragging his cock out of her. “Fuck,” he grunts as he pushes back in, the sound barely audible against her shoulder. “Long day tomorrow. Rest, Rey. Just— just want to fill you up.”

And maybe it’s strange to trust someone so much, but he kisses her neck and coaxes her back to a half-asleep coziness while rocking in and out of her. It’s gentle, maybe the most gentle anyone’s been with her, even if the stretch is promising to leave her a little sore. Once her eyes flutter closed, once she relaxes in his hold and lets him move her and fuck her as he wants, it sinks in, just how much she’s  _ his. _

He must know she’s still awake. He must realize, when her hand lazily covers his as it presses to her chest, or when she snuggles back as far as she can into his arms, when she tilts her hips just enough to give him that little extra bit of space that forces a quiet choking sound from his throat.

Rey doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, doesn’t even open her eyes while he fucks her, grinding  _ so _ deep inside her, like she was made to be full of his cock and wrapped in his arms.

He drags out of her, so achingly slow. If he hadn’t figured it out before, he seems to realize she’s awake when he hears her moan. His mouth presses to the back of her shoulder, over the collar of his shirt. He pulls his hand from under hers, then slides her hand down until her palm is resting against her own lower belly.

“Do you feel me?” he asks lowly, making her press her hand tight to her front. “Do you feel how  _ little _ you are, how you’re stretching, trying to make room?”

The pressure on her belly mixes stunningly with the way he thrusts deep, and  _ yes, fuck _ she can feel his cock inside her all the way from the outside. A needy keening noise escapes her mouth before she can turn her face and muffle it in her pillow. 

“So good, Rey,” he murmurs, and she swears she can feel the vibration of his voice against her back. “Fuck, I just want to stay inside you, feel you clench. Clench for me. Clench around my cock.”

Her eyes roll back a little when she does. 

His hand squeezes hers. The sound he makes is guttural and filthy, even as he works out the words, “You’re— you’re everything I thought you’d be. I never thought you’d want this. Me.  _ Fuck. _ ”

Maybe if she wasn’t such a strange mix of cozy and quivering, stretched open around his cock, she’d pull away, turn around, and tell him he must have been out of his mind to think that. Maybe if she wasn’t still half-asleep, her body feeling like lead gone utterly lax on a cloud, she’d laugh at the thought. The fear of replying, at what his reaction to her reply might be, isn’t there. They’re still in that brief window between late night and early morning, when nothing’s awake and every word spoken feels like a secret, like something that won’t go beyond this little window of time.

Minutes pass, minutes filled with soft panting and building sweat and stuttered breaths and desperate hands grabbing for each other. So many minutes—so many more than seven minutes—filled with a tightness between her hips, promising something slow and intense and impossible and earth-shattering.

When he’s buried deep, breathing hard against her neck and holding her tight, making her shiver with how close to the edge she is, Rey stammers, “I— I’ve always wanted this.”

His hips still, but then flex and rotate and grind and she’s lost to it, overwhelmed and shaking in his arms. He turns them, pushing her front into the mattress and letting her smother her cries into her pillow as he starts to thrust a little faster, chasing his own high without giving her a chance to come down or recover.

Distantly, with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted in their sheets, Rey’s not even sure he heard her. But maybe that’s not what matters.

Maybe what matters is that  _ she’s _ heard it.

~*~

When Rey wakes—for real, this time—she takes a while to stretch before getting up. The bed is empty and her inner thighs are sticky with proof of what, apparently, was not a dream. Her cheeks flush when she gets to her feet and spots Ben, packing a small black backpack he must have brought in his luggage. She watches, feeling a mix of curious and fond, as he opens up the closet where all her clothes are hanging and tilts his head, studying his options for her. 

He must not notice she’s awake.

Rey hesitates there, his shirt hanging to her sticky thighs, and just  _ watches.  _ She can’t help but notice the brightness in his eyes, the way his mouth now seems to curl naturally into a settled smile. The carefree way he hums a song she can’t place, the way he considers her clothes as though his decision is a sizable one.

“Are you going to keep staring,” he asks, startling her, “Or are you going to come over here?” His gaze flicks to her, his mouth twitching into something much more like a smirk than a smile. “You aren’t nearly as subtle as you must think.”

“Neither are you,” she snorts, ignoring her own blush as she pads across the carpet and lets him pull her into a hug. “If your goal was to not wake me up last night—or, this morning, I guess—you failed.”

Ben laughs, and  _ gods _ the way his eyes crinkle a little at the edges when he smiles just squeezes at her heart. “The goal wasn’t to keep you asleep, the goal was to fuck you.”

“Ah. Um. Mission accomplished.”

He bites his mouth closed like he’s holding back another laugh, and shakes his head at her. “How many more times do you think we need to have sex before you stop being shy and adorable about it?”

Rey hums, leaning back in his arms while her hands creep up his chest, twining around his neck. “Loads more times. There’s no point in leaving the room, we may as well stay here. That’s how long it’s going to take.”

It takes about three seconds for any reservation left in his expression to melt away into a grin. He leans down, pressing his forehead to hers, and her breath catches—part of her wants the opportunity to brush her teeth first, but overwhelmingly, she can’t get her mind off how close he is to kissing her.

But he doesn’t.

“You didn’t bring a lot of options for a hike,” he sighs, his minty breath fanning along her jaw. “Shorts and a t-shirt okay? As much as I like the dresses, I’m thinking shorts. We can pick up lunch to-go from the store in the lobby, and be back here in time for dinner.”

“Mmm, we could,  _ or  _ we could stay and _ —” _

“Rey.”

She leans back to frown up at him, debating whether it’s worth it to argue. A hint of sternness settles over his face, and she sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Do we have to?” she groans. “I would  _ much _ prefer we—”

“I know exactly what you’d prefer,” Ben interrupts, a little amusement in his tone. “Later. Fresh air won’t kill either of us.” He mocks her deep, pouting frown with one of his own before he rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered you’re so insistent on spending the day letting me fuck you,  _ believe me _ I’m flattered, but what I want right now is to go hiking. I want to walk up a hill or a mountain or whatever’s around until we get to a pretty view, and then I want to eat lunch and hang out with a friend I haven’t spent nearly enough time with in years while we try to avoid bug bites and sunburns. Then we’ll come back here. Okay?”

“Fine,” she grumbles. She tries to keep the frown, but the more he grins at her and nudges her and holds her, the harder it is. “I suppose it’s not a terrible way to spend a day.”

His eyebrows raise as she turns, leaving his arms to grab the shorts and t-shirt she brought on the off-chance she didn’t feel like wearing a dress. When she’s halfway to the bathroom, Ben huffs. “Good thing you have a  _ no-discipline _ policy. Had I known how difficult you might be, I think I would have tried to negotiate that.”

“Difficult?” Rey turns back to him, wide-eyed. “I’m not difficult.”

Ben snorts. “Oh, you are.” At the concern that must become visible on her face, he hums. “I like it, probably more than I should for someone in this dynamic. It’s very  _ you.” _

“You like it when I’m difficult?”

The look he gives her feels more indecent than the cum drying and sticking at her thighs. He clears his throat, gesturing toward her clothes for the day. “Yes. I do. But I need you to go get ready or we really won’t make it out of this room.”

For a moment, she wants to find out how true that is. She wants to drop the clothes she’s wearing, take his shirt off her, maybe see if he feels like joining her in the shower. She wants to push, to prod, to see just what happens when she’s difficult, when she pushes a little too far.

“Go get ready,” Ben urges. “Be good, and we’ll spend the evening in. I have plans for you.”

Suddenly, hiking sounds  _ great. _

~*~

Rey holds back from saying  _ you were right.  _ Sure, their surroundings are beautiful. All the different greens of the forested trail, the sunlight streaming between branches, the crisp fresh air—it’s hard to deny how nice it all is. 

But the first hour makes her regret ever agreeing. Aside from her protesting muscles, they get stuck behind a family of five and Rey has to bite back an awful lot of not-so family-appropriate things that come to her mind whenever she glances over and sees Ben’s t-shirt straining across his chest, or the way he's got the top half of his hair pulled back. During the second hour or so, the family’s taken another route, but her thighs are screaming and she wishes she could go back in time and convince herself to pick a resort  _ without _ hiking paths nearby. 

She exercises, but it’s the sort of exercise that’s done out of necessity and guilt—regular jogs through the park, yoga classes now and then with Rose, that sort of thing. No regular routine, nothing that’s an actual hobby. Nothing that stretches on long enough to make her muscles ache like this. A sizable part of her is longing for the bubble bath and the sex she very likely would have had back in their suite.

Maybe he’s spoiling her.

Ben climbs the slope without complaint, but she’s  _ convinced _ it’s just his stupidly massive, long legs making it easier on him. There’s one point where they come to a sudden stop because there’s a fucking  _ boulder _ in the path that’s almost as tall as her, and it takes them a solid ten minutes to come to the conclusion that they’re intended to climb the damn thing since there doesn’t seem to be a better way around it. Ben pauses to study it, then doesn’t warn her before grasping her around the waist and lifting her up, leaving her to scrabble onto her hands and knees on the boulder’s top.

While grabbing for something,  _ anything  _ to hold on to, she cracks up, wheezing with laughter, even as she rolls over onto her side on top of the stupid rock. 

“You thought you’d just toss me up here?  _ Really?” _

“I didn’t toss you!” he protests. “I lifted you.” There’s a grunt, a sound of a sneaker struggling against rock, and then his hand slaps along the top of the boulder as he pulls himself up, greeting her with a wide-eyed, genuine smile. “Plus,” he breathes. “It worked. Don’t complain.”

She rolls her eyes, but sits up and braces her feet, offering her hand out to him. He grasps it, letting her help him up the last bit. Dropping to sit next to her, he sighs, wiping hair out of his eyes, and Rey has to bite her mouth closed specifically so she doesn’t offer to lick the sweat on his forehead. Not for the first time this week, it strikes her that she’s entirely fucked up any chance she had at being his friend and shoving down any attraction, any non-platonic feelings. She watches his hand wrap around a bottle, making it look child-sized, and… yeah. That “he’s just a friend” ship has sailed, long gone, never to be seen again. 

“I think we’re almost at the top,” he says between gulps. “I checked out the map they had in the lobby—from here, I think it’s just a short walk.”

Rey glances over, narrowing her eyes in disbelief. “Short walk like, five minutes of level terrain? Or like, another hour uphill?”

“I’m thinking ten minutes, mostly level?”

“Not bad,” she shrugs. “And good timing, I’m  _ starving.” _

Ben stands first, helping her to her feet, but this time, he doesn’t let go of her hand. His fingers twine with hers as they start down a well-worn path he directs them to. The walk is slower, and with relief, she realizes he was right—it’s mostly level, and the walk ends up feeling more like a nice cool-down after a work-out. They bump into each other as they walk side by side, unconsciously evening their paces to match, and whenever she looks over, she’s pretty sure she catches him glance away. His cheeks are tinged pink, and the more they walk, the more she wonders if it’s due to the exercise, or if it’s  _ her. _

All the soreness and aching in her body is long forgotten once they come out of the wooded terrain and onto a flat of rock. The view takes her breath away, and for a little while, Rey stands on what seems like the highest point around, staring out at it all, even as Ben takes a seat on the ground and unpacks their lunch.

Before them— _ below _ them—there’s an endless stretch of forested greens and a lake reflecting a sky’s worth of colors she could never match, not with all the colored pencils in the world.

“Oh my god,” Rey breathes out, dropping to sit cross-legged on the ground next to Ben. “Maybe I need to take more vacations.” 

He nudges at her shoulder, staring out at the view. “You do. What’s the point of life if you don’t use your time the way you want?” 

Rey doesn’t know the answer. Or maybe she does, and she’s afraid of it.

“This is really beautiful,” she says instead. “I’m so glad you suggested this. I didn’t realize.”

Ben nods, and they fall into a short, comfortable silence before he sighs, and starts talking. He talks like he’s talking to the picturesque landscape in front of them, or like he’s talking to himself.

“I don’t know how to express the relief I felt when I left my job,” he says softly. “Or when Phas and I ended things. Maybe being relieved makes me awful, but when it started sinking in, that’s all I felt. That’s not— not to say I dislike her, or that I have any problems with her. She’s incredible. She really is,” he shrugs. “But she was part of that life. Every morning we woke up, the first thing we each did was check our phones, check our emails. We got ready, if we were lucky we’d have time to get coffee and a to-go breakfast on the way in, and once we got to the office, that was it. I’d see her in meetings and some nights we’d leave the office together, but half the time I ended up crashing on the couch in my office until late. Those nights, I wouldn’t bother going home, because if I went home, I’d be answering emails all night before sleep. We looked at our phones more than we looked at each other.” 

“I didn’t know,” Rey whispers. “I guess I saw it, a little, but… I didn’t realize you were so aware of it. Or, maybe I thought you were trying to make it work. It seemed like it was taking a toll on you, but you seemed determined to make that life work.” 

Ben nods. “I was. We  _ were _ making it work, but it felt like First Order was our third, if that makes sense. She seemed happy with it, still seems happy with it—actually, fuck, she’s  _ thriving.  _ She stopped by a couple days before you and I left to come here, just dropping off some of my things she still had, and she mentioned Snoke’s promoting her. I think she’s even seeing one of my old coworkers, and what’s weird is, I’m happy for her. I thought it would bother me, but that… that life just isn’t me anymore.” 

She looks sideways over at him, her voice thin when she asks, “Who are you, then?” 

“I haven’t felt like me in a long time.” 

“Then, what makes you feel like you?” she prods.

“This,” he admits. He gestures out at the view, then glances over at her. “You. Taking time for myself. You know I haven’t checked my phone more than once a day the whole time we’ve been here? I deleted my email app. Maybe I won’t fix cars forever, I don’t know, but I don’t toss and turn all night thinking of the repair work I need to finish, you know? When I was reading last night I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I read something that wasn’t assigned reading for a class, or something related to work. The further I get from that life at First Order, the more it feels like my real life hit pause when I took that internship. I feel like, right up until then, my life was on one track, and I guess I feel like I’m finally getting back to it.”

Hesitantly, she slides her hand over to find his, smoothing her fingers over the back of it. “I’m proud of you. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you put yourself first and… it’s really good, Ben.”

There’s a little grin that quirks his lips. He leans over, pressing his mouth to her temple. “Now you know how  _ I _ feel,” he mumbles. “I don’t think you realize how hard it is to do what you’re doing this week. Maybe you do, but…”

He sits back, resting his forearms on his bent knees as he looks at her. “You realize you aren’t just letting me do what I want with you, right? That’s not what this is,” he says gently. “What you’re doing is putting yourself out there, opening up, making yourself vulnerable. You’re sharing yourself, you’re trusting someone. That isn’t easy for anyone, and I know it’s even harder for you.” 

In a whisper, he adds, “Do you have any idea how amazing that is? How amazing you are?” He shakes his head and glances back out at the view, and all Rey can do is stare at him and let his words sink in. “You know, I was stunned by you when we met, when you bitched me out at Poe’s party and called me a… what did you call me? A privileged asshole?” He gives her a little half-smile. “I was stunned when I bumped into you on the sidewalk behind the library later that year and found out you were just coming home from work at 2 AM, knowing you had a class in six hours. I was stunned when I met you at second-hand bookstore that summer and found out you worked not two, but  _ three _ jobs.” 

He pauses, then continues carefully, like he’s just at the edge of saying something he’s not sure he should say. “When I was going through things to make sure I gave Phas everything of hers, I came across this box. It was all this stuff I’d shoved away after graduation, stuff like that textbook you made me take back once you were finished with it for the semester. It was full of things like that. Pictures of all of us from those parties Finn and Poe used to have, notes you and I used to pass in class or in the library after you warmed up to me, movie stubs, birthday cards, all that stuff people keep because they want the memories.”

Ben perches his chin on his folded arms, braced on his knees. He seems like he’s trying to make himself small, something that seems laughably impossible. “It’s like I boxed up my memories and put them away. And now, I feel like I’m getting back to that life, or I  _ could, _ but I’m not sure it’s possible. I pushed you all aside. Put you all in a box and shoved you in the back of my closet. Or… I tried.”

“Tried?” she whispers. Her voice has gotten thick, maybe a little scratchy, but she asks anyway.

When he looks over at her, there’s something undefinable in his expression. It’s maybe a little sad, maybe a little self-loathing, but it’s hard to make out.

“I tried, but I could never forget  _ you. _ You were like… a reminder of what my life could have been if I’d passed on that internship, or if I’d ever just  _ once  _ considered my own wants and needs, what made  _ me _ happy.”

Before she can reply, Ben shakes his head. He clears his throat, saying, “Anyway, that’s why I’m relieved that you’re letting someone take care of you, why you’re putting yourself first. It’s something I wish I’d done sooner, and I know it’s not easy. You’re finally taking a break, finally stopping to breathe. I don’t know how to explain how happy that makes me.” 

She barely half-hears any of it.

Rey can only stare at him. Stare at him, and wonder if he knows it’s always been a little hard for her to breath when he’s around.

~*~

The rain starts with a light pitter-patter on the leaves when they’re halfway back to Ben’s car, when she’s still lost in thought. The two of them exchange a hesitant look, glancing between each other and the slowly-darkening sky before Rey asks, “Did you happen to check today’s forecast?”

He shakes his head with a wince, and they continue on, picking up their pace. Mostly, it’s fine. A few drops here and there, but the rain stays in a light sprinkle and they’re covered well by the tree cover above them. At least, that’s the case until they get to the trailhead, the end of the forested area that opens into a clearing, opposite of where his car is parked. The sky seems to open up at that exact moment, releasing something torrential and soaking.

Without a second thought, Rey makes a run for it, swearing loudly. Ben seems less bothered, but follows after her in a jog, and if she wasn’t so annoyed by her quickly dampening clothes and the chill of the cool rain, she might be a little annoyed by him laughing at her. She crosses the small clearing in what feels like half a minute, only to find the car door locked as she yanks on the handle.

She lets out a whine when she looks back over her shoulder and sees Ben’s slowed down, walking at a casual pace with an amused grin.

He pulls the elastic from the top half of his now-wet hair, running his hand through it as he teases, “Something wrong?”

“It’s locked!” she says, having to yell it a little over the sound of rain splashing down onto the car in big drops. She leans back against the car door, urging, “Open it up! I’m getting soaked!”

Rather than unlock it, Ben comes right up to her, right into her space, and presses her back against the car’s side, bracing one hand on the roof.

“Yeah? And since when was that a bad thing?”

She wants to glare at him, wants to demand he open the damn car, because the rain is just  _ pouring _ over them now. She can feel it roll down her neck, her chest, soaking through her sports bra and running down her legs and into her shoes and it should feel miserable, should piss her off to no end that he’s the reason they aren’t warming up in the car.

But it’s too easy to get lost in the way he presses against her, in the stupid way his mouth curls with a mischievous, infectious smile.

Rey reaches up, looping her arms around his neck. “Fine. If you’re keeping me in the rain, aren’t you at least going to kiss me?”

It’s gentle and hesitant, the way he shakes his head. Just a single shake. The movement jostles his dripping hair, plastering some of it to the side of his face. 

“Why not?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Concern, and maybe a deep sense of rejection sink back into her, not as forgotten as she thought it was. 

“I can’t,” he finally murmurs, the sound only barely audible over the rain. “I can’t do that to myself.”

It feels like a slap in the face, but… he can’t mean it the way it sounds, can he? All the different interpretations spin in her mind, from the downright terrible to the interpretations she doesn’t even let herself hope for. She sinks into the feeling of the rain, lets it wash the desperate tears that have almost definitely sprung up, and she says softly, “But it’s just a kiss, I—"

“It was never just a kiss,” he interrupts. His hand curls at her waist, his jaw working like he’s either frustrated or barely holding it together. “You saying that, you suggesting it could  _ ever _ be just a kiss—that’s why I can’t. With you, it was  _ never _ just a kiss.”

Her lips part in a stunned silence.

Of all the responses, all the interpretations she came up with,  _ that _ was one she wouldn’t let herself hope for.

“Shit,” he sighs under his breath, disappointment filling in tone. “Just… get in the car, Rey. I’ll unlock it.”

She shakes her head.

A frown deepens on his face, something stern and the furthest thing from playful, and when Rey sees it, she thinks she starts to understand the depth of the pain in his voice and in his expression.

“I’m telling you to get in the car,” he orders, as if he thinks whatever facade he’s attempting will work. But it won’t; she knows him too well to buy it.

She  _ knows _ him, and that makes her decision resolute.

“I can’t. I can’t  _ not _ tell you, not again.”

He hesitates, but then shakes his head again. His grip on her side stays steady, only wavering when he leans in and kisses her forehead in an aching echo of something they’ve shared before. “I’m sorry,” he says against her temple. “I can’t move on again, not past you. I’m still not sure I ever did the first time. And I can’t… I can’t have all of you and still let you go in a few days.”

“So don’t.” The way she says it, it’s so plain, so obvious, so  _ right, _ it seems ridiculous it took her this many days. “Don’t.”

Ben leans back, looking more and more terrified by the moment, even more so as she says, “What if I don’t want you to move on? What if I wish you never had?”

His words come out almost pleading, in a whisper. “Don’t promise something you can’t guarantee. Don’t do that to me, not… not after everything.”

“But what if I  _ can _ guarantee it? What if I love you?”

The admittance seems to surprise him just as much as it surprises her. Rey bites the inside of her cheek, internally panicking at the thought that she’s gone too far or somehow misunderstood and just said something that might ruin their friendship. But then she glances up at Ben, at his wide eyes, at how his bottom lip quivers, at how his soaked-through hair hangs around his face and how he seems scared just to  _ hope, _ never mind believe her.

The words come more easily when she realizes how desperately he needs to hear them.

“What if I loved you before?” she says, “What if I never stopped loving you?”

Ben sucks in a shaking breath, raising his hand from her hip to cup her face, and she continues, “What if I loved you when I pulled you into that closet, what if I just hadn’t figured it out? What if the only reason I kept my distance after we graduated was because it hurt so much, seeing you with her?”

“I couldn’t keep letting you ruin me,” he admits, his voice thick and wrecked. “I know I should have said something, and I always knew it wasn’t intentional on your part, but—”

“What if it broke my heart when I realized how serious you two had gotten?” she interrupts, squeezing at his shoulder. “What if I’ve never figured out how to even have  _ feelings _ for anyone else because I’ve always felt this stupid pull to you, and what if, no matter what I try, that doesn’t go away? What if I’m done trying to move on and what if I’m done pretending you’re not it for me, Ben?”

His throat bobs. He looks like he’s about to cry as he soothes his thumb over her cheek. 

“That’s a lot of  _ what ifs,  _ sweetheart.”

That’s when her tears start in earnest.

“But what if they’re all true?” she asks, her voice cracking. “Rule one. Transparency, right? So… you should know, you  _ need _ to know there have been times—at group dinners or birthdays or just times we’ve happened to be in the same coffee shop—when I thought I’d die just to kiss you again. Just one more kiss, just  _ one _ more chance, because—“

And that’s it, that’s all she gets out before he grabs her face and presses his mouth to hers.

He kisses her on an inhale.

It knocks her breathless even if she should have realized this was inevitable. There’s no hesitation to it, no second-guessing. There’s the slightest thrum of nervous energy, something so similar to their first kiss, but the nerves don’t stick—they aren’t clueless, confused, lovestruck kids anymore. They aren’t pretending it’s for the sake of a game. 

Now, it’s not seven seconds or minutes or hours; he kisses like it’s forever, only pausing to breathe out her name against her lips before his mouth slides back over them.

Now, when they ruin each other—when he groans into her mouth and bows her back against the car, when her nose presses into his cheek with how close she tries to get to him, when they make each other lightheaded and forget to care about the rain—every bit of it is intentional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)
> 
> Just a general FYI, the rest of this is mostly porn. This pretty much the extent of any possible relationship drama. The only way anyone’s going to suffer in the next 3-4 chapters is thanks to like... edging or orgasm delay.


	5. Chapter 5

When they make it back into the resort lobby, Rey’s clothes are no longer dripping. They’re still soaked through, making her shiver even with Ben’s arm tight around her waist, but the seat in his car picked up a majority of the dripping rain water. She should be uncomfortable, should be miserable and freezing, but when they get in an elevator, Ben catches her mouth again. She forgets to be cold. 

She lost track of how long he kept her there, pressed against the side of his car. She lost track of how long it took him to fumble with his keyring, too distracted with how she pulled at his bottom lip. She lost track of how long it took them to break apart and come to their senses, realizing they could do considerably more if they got back to the resort. Now, as her arms twine around his neck in the elevator, Rey realizes the way he’s kissing her has changed. He’s not hesitant anymore, not the nervous undergrad who’d been yanked into a closet not-so against his will. He doesn’t let her lead, doesn’t let her pick a pace—he dominates all of it, whether she lets him or not.

But one thing hasn’t changed; when she realizes it, it feels so innately Ben, her chest aches.

He still kisses her like he’ll never get another chance.

Ben smiles as his lips slide over hers. He tilts his head, holding hers in place, and she fists her hands in the front of his wet shirt, lifting on her toes to deepen the kiss, but there’s no point. He’s in control. He kisses her slowly, huffing quiet laughs against her mouth while she whines for more. Teeth nip at her lips, tugging at them, and he licks along the seam of her mouth, grinning when she tries to nuzzle her face closer. 

Rey hardly notices the trip up to their floor, too obsessed with his hands holding her face and his mouth working against hers. He hums, licking into her, and briefly, she wonders if he’d accept the suggestion that they spend the night doing _this._ It feels like it’ll take hours to get reacquainted with his mouth.

He only pulls away when the elevator stops at their floor, and she makes a throaty, disappointed noise. 

“We can do more inside the room,” he points out in a whisper. His cheeks are flushed, his mouth a little swollen, and… god, it feels like years since she’s seen him so happy, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with how he smiles. “I promise.”

There’s a little unsteadiness to his hands as he unlocks the door, and Rey leans against the door frame, letting out a content sigh. 

“Would you want to just do _this_ tonight?”

“What? Stand outside the room?” he teases. The door finally opens, and he laughs as he holds it open for her.

Rey shakes her head at him, walking into their suite.

The room seems different now. Maybe that’s silly, maybe it’s her imagination, but it _does._ There are still a few littered browning rose petals on the floor that didn’t quite make it to a trash bin and there’s still a strangely placed tub sitting out in the open, but it lacks the nervous tension, the ticking clock, the horrible feeling of being temporary. Even if the room is temporary, it now seems the two of them aren’t.

The moment she’s inside, she yanks the damp clothes off, starting with sneakers that keep making awful squelching noises. 

“I meant we could make out. Sort of… making up for lost time? I haven’t kissed you enough.”

Maybe there’ll never be an _enough_ when it comes to Ben.

“Ah.” He watches as her t-shirt drops to the floor in a wet pile, followed quickly by her shorts. There’s amusement in his expression as he says, “We can do that. I have other plans, too.”

“Plans?”

“Plans,” he confirms, with no further explanation. “Shower first?”

Rey hesitates while she finishes lifting her damp sports bra over her head, wanting to ask what he means by _plans,_ but then it strikes her that she doesn’t care. Presumably, those plans involve him, and that’s good enough. 

Her gaze wanders over him as he strips, too. She doesn’t even blush when he catches her and playfully scolds, “Stop staring and get in the shower. You must be freezing. I’ll be right behind you.”

Leaving the room—and the increasingly naked man in it—is regrettable, but the shower is steaming. For the first minute, she wonders why he didn’t suggest a bath instead. Her muscles ache, and she wishes she could have submerged herself in warmth. But then Ben steps in and backs her against the shower wall. He bends down and kisses her gently, just as she realizes how much easier that is in a shower rather than a tub. 

Scalding water runs down them, warming up the chill that’s settled into her. 

He kisses up along her jaw, holding her tight to him as he mumbles into the side of her neck, “I think this is my happy place.”

“I guess for a vacation, we haven’t left the room much,” she hums.

Ben snorts with his face buried in the crook of her neck, keeping her in a hug. “Yes, because I’m obviously talking about the _room.”_

“It’s a nice room!”

“Rey, I swear—”

“Okay, okay,” she laughs, leaning back in his arms. 

Her hands slide up his chest as he straightens, giving her a frown. “Didn’t you claim you weren’t difficult earlier today?”

“Mmm, maybe.” Despite the stern expression, there’s a softness to his voice, and the longer she smiles up at him, the more that sternness melts away. “So I’m your happy place?” she whispers.

A brief grin plays across his mouth. “Parts of you, definitely.”

_“Ben.”_

He bursts into laughter, and it’s such a rare sight, Rey has to stare. It’s a rarity she’s not sure she’s seen in years, and there’s a stunning lightness to it that squeezes at her heart. When it dies out, he’s left cupping her face and staring at her intently with a wide, breathless smile.

“Yeah, Rey,” he nods, still trying not to laugh. “Anywhere with you. That’s my happy place.”

They both go quiet, and Ben leans in again, pressing his mouth to hers like he’s trying to make up for all those missed chances. And maybe he is, maybe they both are. The shower water soaks them both while he slides his mouth over hers again and again, seeming every bit as desperate as she feels. It’s hard to know how much time passes like that; it’s forever, and nowhere near long enough. The ache that comes with pulling away to catch her breath seems to be mutual, but then she remembers they’re in a _shower_ and they should be showering. 

She bends to grab the shampoo Ben brought from home, but he interrupts, taking it from her.

“Turn around, I’ll take care of it.”

Rey sighs, but it’s the content, _happy_ kind of sigh. She turns her back to him, facing the shower faucets, and lets her shoulders sag while he works shampoo through her hair.

Hesitantly, he says, “We should talk about this, I think.”

She pauses, trying to silence the tiny, anxious little voice that tries to tell her she misunderstood and they aren’t on the same page.

“I don’t want to rush this. Us,” he explains. She can practically hear the shyness in his voice when he admits, “I guess it’s a little late for that, but if we’re doing this, I want to go slow.”

It’s both a relief to hear they’re on the same page, and a reasonable request. “You _did_ just recently get out of a relationship,” Rey points out.

“That’s part of it,” he admits. “But it’s more that.” He pauses in washing her hair, and kisses the back of her shoulder. “I want this _so_ much,” he whispers. “And I don’t want to rush through all my last firsts, if that makes sense.”

Her heart squeezes. She barely dares to ask, “Last firsts?”

Ben nods against her shoulder. “I think it’s time to stop pretending you aren’t my person.”

Whatever she planned to respond with get choked up in her throat, some sweet, unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in her chest as his words echo in her mind. He doesn’t press her for a response. He tilts her head under the water, washing the shampoo out with gentle strokes of his hand down her wet hair, and he kisses at her shoulder until she turns around in his arms.

“You’re my person, too.”

Ben reacts like he’s somehow both stunned and utterly unsurprised. His lips part as he looks down at her, but a sense of contentment settles across his features.

And then he grabs the bottle of conditioner, continuing on with their shower like her entire world hasn’t been shaken up in a matter of days.

~*~

“Do you want to put it in, or should I?”

Rey finishes spreading a light moisturizer over her face and glances over at him. Her cheeks burn when she sees Ben in nothing but gray sweatpants, leaning against the bathroom doorway, holding a black plug between two fingers. His hair is still a wet, dripping mess, and her gaze gets caught between the blush-inducing toy and the occasional water droplet that rolls down his chest.

His mouth quirks at her lack of audible reaction. 

“Did you think we wouldn’t use one again?” He hums, then takes a step closer, leaning beside her, his back to the long marble-topped bathroom vanity. Oh so casually, he tilts his head down at the object in his hands. “Unless you decide these are a hard limit, I want you to get used to them. This one is silicone. Some people prefer a firmer material. Glass, stainless steel, but silicone has more give. You seemed fine with the smallest, so I want to try the next size up tonight.”

Rey hasn’t stopped staring at the seamless cone-shaped object, noting the flaring base meant to keep it safely in place. Her attention only wavers when Ben clears his throat.

“If it ends up being too much, we’ll swap back to the other one,” he promises. The corner of his mouth curls as he glances over at her. “We’ve got plenty of time to work you up to it.”

It’s strange, how something can be so sweet and so filthy at the same time. Rey’s body seems torn between blushing all over and happy-crying over the thought that they have _plenty of time._

But he’s right. They do.

“So. Am I putting this in for you, or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

She swallows. “Are you actually offering the choice, or is there a right answer?”

“A little of both?” Ben laughs. “At some point, I’d like to show you how to put one in. It’s straightforward. Lots of lube, no rushing—common sense stuff, I think.” He hesitates, working his lips together for a moment before deciding, “I’ll handle it tonight.” Gesturing to the counter before her, he says, “Lean forward, forearms on the counter.”

“O-oh, right now?”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Was I unclear?”

Her eyes flick from his amused expression to the object in his hand. “Nope. No. Not at all.”

Her heart is already thudding as her forearms press to the counter, squeezing her bare breasts together as she bends down. Ben sets the plug base-down beside her, then brackets his arms around her, his hands gripping the counter’s edge while he leans over her, kissing her shoulder. His eyes stay open as he kisses there, connecting with hers through the bathroom mirror.

“I think I like you like this,” he murmurs. “Patiently waiting. Watching.”

His eyes flutter closed, and Rey watches, heart pounding while he kisses his way across her shoulder toward her neck, nudging her fresh braid out of the way when he gets to it.

It continues like that for a few minutes while she tries to breathe, but when Ben works his way down her spine, he seems to catch himself.

He clears his throat, standing back up. “Plans,” he mutters, sounding a little flustered. “I had plans.” 

Taking a half step back, he holds her hips, tugging her further from the counter, so she’s bent over at a deeper angle. The change makes her shiver; her nipples pebble at the chill of the marble beneath her.

His voice is rough as he takes the plug from the counter, along with the small black bottle of lube she hadn’t noticed until now. “Like I said, this is a silicone plug, which means you shouldn’t use silicone lube with it,” he explains. While talking, he pops open the little container, drizzling clear, viscous liquid over the toy. “That sounds counterintuitive, but what we’re using is water-based—won’t break down the materials in the plug. Makes cleaning easier, too.”

He places the now-shiny toy on the counter again, still base-down, and meets her eyes in the mirror again.

“There may be times, if you ever want to continue a dynamic like this, when I’ll ask you to have one of these in. If, say, I’m meeting you for a date, I may ask you to have one in, so I know you’re nice and ready for whatever I have in mind. So, you should know how to use them safely. You want lube on the plug, but you _also_ want it—”

Rey sucks in a breath when his hand slides between her thighs, pushing gently at each until she spreads her legs. 

“You also want it here,” he says, sliding his thumb over her puckered hole. “The more you use, the better. I’m not sure there’s such a thing as using too much.”

The mirror confirms that her cheeks are exactly as red as they feel, but Ben continues on, dripping the lube on his fingers and gliding them over her. She closes her eyes, trying to relax, but she startles when Ben presses something—the tip of the toy, she realizes—into her. 

“It’s okay, relax for me,” he urges. “It’s a little bigger than the last one, we’ll go slower. Same as last time. Let me know if it’s too much or if it hurts, okay?”

She nods, maybe a _little_ nervous, and bites her lip as she watches him in the mirror. She can’t see what he’s doing, exactly, but she sees the way his throat bobs, and the way he’s so entirely focused on working the toy into her. 

With a deep breath, she tries to relax her muscles. It doesn’t hurt—it’s more of the strange stretch she felt before. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but then her mind spirals into the realization that this one feels like it’s as big as she can handle, and it’s _far_ from being the size of Ben. How on _earth_ does he think that’s going to work?

Until he says, “Breathe, Rey,” she doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath. “Just breathe, we’re almost there.”

Pausing, he drips more lube between her cheeks. He twists the plug, like he’s spreading the liquid, then eases it a little further in, closer and closer to its widest part. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

“Doing such a good job,” he whispers. “You should see how well you’re taking this.” He tsks. “Shame it isn’t me, but we’ll get there. Open your eyes.” Her gaze finds his in the mirror, just as he slides the plug the rest of the way in, making her shudder. Lowly, he says, “Eventually, I want all of you. I think you know I can take whatever I want, and you _like_ that, don’t you?”

Rey nods, not even trying to hide the desperation in her voice. “I— yes, yes I like that.”

“Good.” Her cunt clenches around nothing, and Ben taps gently at the base of the plug, sending strange, pleasurable little jolts through her. “Stay right there.”

She thinks he’ll take off his sweatpants, _hopes_ he’ll fuck her and make her watch in the mirror, so when he moves away, she almost whimpers. He stands beside her, oblivious to the tension between her thighs and the way she’s struggling not to beg as he washes his hands in the sink. He dries them, back to his casual self, and all Rey can do is wonder what he has planned. 

When he leaves the bathroom entirely, Rey makes an odd strangled noise. She tries to wait. She really does, gives it her best effort. It feels like an hour passes with her legs spread, a shiver-inducing weight from the plug slowly sapping at her patience.

“Uh, Ben?” she calls out, still bent over a fucking counter, specifically _not_ being fucked. “Ben, what— you can’t just _leave_ a woman like this. Are you coming back?”

He pops back in, frowning at her. He’s still in his sweatpants, but he’s towel-dried his hair. “Leave you like what?” he asks, all innocent. “Desperate?”

Rey huffs, glowering at him as she stands and folds her arms over her bare chest. “I would have said _dripping._ I thought—” she gestures to the counter.

“Oh, you thought I was planning to fuck you?” he laughs, like an asshole who knows exactly what he’s done. “No. Not like that. At least not tonight. Is that why you’re still in here?”

She blinks at him. “You told me to stay. You… you _specifically_ said ‘Stay right there.’ What did you expect?”

A slow smile spreads across his mouth. “Maybe I had doubts you’d listen. Maybe I was testing you.”

“Maybe you’re an ass,” she fires back.

He hums, giving a little shrug. “I never said I wouldn’t reward you for listening.”

 _That_ gives her pause. Without another word, Ben grins and leaves the bathroom again. This time she follows. Walking with the plug in is a little odd, a constant reminder that it’s _there,_ like a placeholder for something much bigger. It makes her shiver, makes her breath catch.

Just as she’s about to steal one of his shirts to sleep in, Ben glances back at her. “Normally I’d approve, but not yet.”

Her stomach does a little flip. “Oh?”

“I love seeing it on you,” he admits quietly. “I always loved it when you wore my clothes. But leave it off for now.” 

He leaves her there by the dresser with memories of cold classrooms and borrowed sweaters, still warm from him, and he crosses the room to the bed, gesturing for her to join him. He sits right in the middle of the massive surface and uses the remote on his nightstand to turn the TV on. 

“I’m going to read. You can watch a movie if you want. You won’t have the best angle to see the TV, but I think the position I have in mind is the easiest option.”

_Easiest option?_

Rey pads across the carpet toward him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m… watching a movie while naked and using a plug?”

She’s been nearly dripping for him for what feels like hours, but when he’d said _plans_ , she hadn’t expected this. It’s almost a letdown, though she’d never admit it.

“Mmm…” Ben tilts his head to one side. “More like, you’re watching a movie with me inside you _and_ with the plug in. I want to show you what happens when you behave and ask for things _nicely.”_ His smile turns mischievous. “You can either sit on my cock or,” he reaches over and lifts a hand to her face, tapping a single finger at her bottom lip, “You can get on your knees and open up. But for tonight, I would prefer you sit.”

She watches him prop another pillow behind his back, sitting up straight before he looks over at her and pats a hand on his lap again. “Come here. Sit with your back to me.”

Climbing into bed, she crawls over to him, accepting his hand to help her balance as she straddles his thighs, facing the room. His hand settles comfortingly at her hip, and he tugs down the front of his sweatpants, letting himself rest, solid and warm against her ass.

“Take your time,” he murmurs. “Once you’re on my cock, you aren’t getting off until I let you.”

Hesitantly, Rey looks over her shoulder and asks, “You’re going to read while I’m riding you? How’s that going to work? Is this a thing where I’m seeing if I can distract you, or—”

He interrupts with a quiet laugh, and a low answer of, “I think you misunderstood. I said _sit._ I didn’t say _ride._ In fact, if you move or clench, I won’t be happy.”

_“Oh.”_

His hands grip her sides, his thumbs pressing into the cheeks of her ass. Part of her wishes she could turn around and kiss him, but then he kisses the back of her shoulder and asks, “Think you have room for me?” 

She takes in a shaky breath, nodding. Lifting on her knees, she readjusts, gripping his cock as she lowers herself onto him. The relative silence of the room is only punctuated by a shared groan. It’s breathtaking, the stretch of her body to accommodate him. Rey shifts, squirming a little so she can take him as deeply as possible. Once she does, she lets her head fall back as she processes the fullness.

Just _one,_ the plug or his cock, would be a tight fit, but the combination has tears pricking at her eyes. It’s like every bit of her mind is focused in on what’s happening between her thighs, like _this—_ being so full—is what she’s good for, and she can be so, _so_ good.

“Too much, or…?” Ben asks, his voice rough. His hands squeeze her, his fingers soothing over her skin. 

Rey shakes her head, wiping her eyes. “No. No, it’s good.” She sinks, sitting fully on him so her legs can relax a little. “Really good.”

“Be sure. You’ll stay here as long as I want. No squeezing, no bouncing, no playing with yourself,” he says firmly. “Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”

Truthfully, she’s not sure. Three or four minutes might be okay, but Rey has a feeling it won’t be three or four minutes.

“Don’t you want to be good for me?” he prods.

 _Gods,_ she does. Rey nods, swallowing thickly.

There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Then I guess we’ll see how you do.”

For the first couple of minutes, he seems patient with her—she readjusts twice, spreading her knees to get in a more comfortable position, and he doesn’t scold her. After that, Rey realizes there _isn’t_ a more comfortable position. Comfort isn’t the problem. Her bent knees aren’t the problem. The problem is, the plug jostles every time Ben moves, even the slightest bit. The _problem_ is that it feels like her heart is beating in her cunt, and she’s so fucking full, it would only take a bit of rocking back and forth to make her fall apart.

But that isn’t an option. 

She tries to focus on other things. The quiet page turning behind her back. The gentle way Ben rests the spine of his hardcover book against her ass, like she’s a book stand. The TV buzzing in the background, playing a movie she can’t even fathom paying attention to. The article she read once about how women can orgasm just by using their minds. She tries to think of that. The title was something like _Think Your Way to an Orgasm,_ but now she can’t remember if it was one of those ridiculous Cosmo articles with questionable advice, or if she could sit on his cock and literally think herself to the orgasm her body is insisting she needs.

She imagines how soaked she must be, and how hard he’ll probably fuck her once she passes this test, whatever it is. She wonders how far she’ll be able to take him down her throat, wondering if he’ll prefer her to swallow, or if he’s the type to want to cover her face or her breasts.

That thought leaves her breathless; she thinks of other things instead. Things less… interesting. 

She pointedly _doesn’t_ think of work, assuming he would be less than pleased if he knew.

Ben throbs inside her, and she chokes on a moan. There’s another turn of a page, and then the blunt nail from a single finger starts at the middle of the back of her neck, dragging down the column of her spine. Rey closes her eyes, breathing deeply while she tries not to grind down onto him.

Is it possible for her heart to be beating in her clit? That sounds ridiculous, _and yet._

It _seems_ like she could come like this, just thinking of his fingers rubbing at her, thinking of how it would feel if he let her bounce. Just the thought of how his cock would drag inside her—

Rey shivers, her hips shaking the _tiniest_ amount.

Behind her, Ben tsks. “Stay still,” he orders. Then, not another word. A flip of a page, but no scolding, no promises he’ll eventually fuck her, if only she’ll be patient.

Her mind flicks from topic to topic as she tries to distract herself. Where will they go on their first proper date? Somewhere typical, like a nice restaurant? Somewhere they share happy memories, like their old favorite hole-in-a-wall sushi place? Or somewhere casual, like his apartment? Will he want her to stay over after the first date? By slow, how slow did he mean? How surprised (or unsurprised?) will Han and Leia be when Ben tells them, and—

And then she realizes her mind has wondered to a strange spot to be, when she’s sitting on a man’s cock.

Shaking the thought from her head, Rey glances down and nearly chokes on her tongue when she notices the very subtle bulge in her lower belly, between the bones of her hips. She presses a hand there, hissing at the added pressure.

“Rey,” he warns lowly. “What did I say about touching yourself?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she breathes, dropping her hand to his clothed thigh. “So. How much longer do you think you’ll read?”

He laughs quietly, but his voice is rougher than usual. “Well, this is an engaging book. Might be awhile. This is the type I could stay up all night reading. Why?”

“Oh,” she huffs, wincing at the thought of _all night_. “No reason.”

“Ah, so you’re fine, then?”

She nods, kind of determined to prove she can handle this. “Yes. Fine. I— I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Ben makes a bit of a surprised noise, but only replies, “Oh, good. I’ll keep reading, then.”

It strikes her then, that he might have put a stop to this torture if she’d asked, but he must return to reading, because she hears the turn of a page a minute later. Rey closes her eyes. She’s never been good at meditation, never really tried it past the couple of classes Rose dragged her to, but she tries. She counts her breaths, in through her nose, out through her mouth in a four-count or eight-count or whatever the hell that stupid class asked of her, and just as she’s about to give up on it, Ben sighs, readjusting under her.

The movement, subtle as it is, seems to suck all the air out of the room. It’s so close to what she needs, _would_ be what she needed, if only he would do it a few more times. Any thoughts of breathing or counting disappear as she bites at the inside of her mouth, trying so hard not to roll her hips.

The way he tugs her braid is probably meant to be playful or teasing, but it arches her back, forcing a moan from her mouth. He leans forward, abandoning his book, and says in her ear, “Are you _sure_ you’re fine? You don’t need to come? You can tell me if you do.”

His free hand slides up her side, along her ribs, and squeezes her breast. 

“Are you sure you aren’t thinking of how full you are right now?” he asks softly. He kisses just behind her ear, whispering, “You aren’t thinking of how it would feel if I was bouncing you on my cock? How _good_ it would feel if I let you squeeze around me? That’s what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about how nice it would be to hear you cry and beg me to let you come.”

With a faux disappointed sigh, he drops his hand from her breast and says, “But since you’re fine—”

Rey whimpers, her facade cracking.

He pauses, and she can _hear_ the pleased smile in his voice when he speaks again. “Unless there’s something you want? You sound like you might need something.” 

“Please,” she whispers. 

“Maybe I’ll help. Just a little bit.” His fingers find her clit, swirling with the lightest pressure. “If you move even the slightest inch, I’ll stop and read another chapter and you’ll have to wait. Understand?” 

Rey nods, gulping in a breath, and he circles her, then presses down on her clit, rubbing it against where she’s stretched around his cock. She covers her mouth and squeezes her own thigh, as if it might ground her. Somehow, she stays still.

“So good,” he praises in a hush. “I’m impressed, sweetheart.”

She whines, but he continues teasing her, saying, “I think next time, I’ll have you warm my cock with your mouth. What do you think? Could you handle that for me? Maybe we could find a nice toy to stretch you out while you do it. Use a plug, too—fill _all_ your holes.”

“Anything you want,” she promises.

Ben groans, the sound vibrating against her skin. “That’s the right answer.”

She lets her head fall back, and she stares up, realizing she can see them in the mirror above. Her chest is flushed and heaving, her eyes wide and desperate. Ben’s curled around her, his hair an inky mess of waves he tucks behind one ear, and the way he nuzzles into the crook of her neck, the way he caresses _so_ lightly over her clit, making her twitch… it’s somehow _sweet._

“Please,” she finally whispers. “Please, I— I need— I need more. It’s been so long, this has to qualify as torture.”

Ben laughs against the back of her shoulder. “Sixteen minutes, actually. I’m timing it. Want to see if we can train you to be more patient.” He rolls his hips under her, dragging his cock inside her, and at the sound of her gasp, he asks, “Do you want to come?” as though there’s more than one possible answer to that question. He feathers his fingers over her chest, pinching and pulling gently at her nipples. “I think it’s been long enough, don’t you? Do you want me to help you? You sound like you need to come _so_ badly, don’t you?”

Rey nods, curling her chin to her chest as she squeezes her eyes shut. It’s a struggle not to tighten around him and see if she can get just the _slightest_ relief from that, but he hasn’t said she can yet.

“Say please,” he orders, his voice silky, with just a little tension and desperation around the edges. “Ask me nicely. Prove you can be sweet.”

“Please,” she blurts. She squirms on him, earning a _tsk,_ and she breathes out, “Ben, I really want to come, please let me, please? I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, I promise. Please, please let me—”

His hips don’t jerk, a minor tragedy, but he rubs at her with more purpose. “Lean back more. Against me.”

She does without hesitation, letting her weight rest more against his upper body. It gives him better access to her, gives her a better view in the mirror. Feeling like a toy—like a doll, like something pliable and _his_ —in Ben’s hands, all she does is watch and let him do what he wants. He pushes fingers into her mouth, uses her own spit to circle around her clit. He sucks at the side of her neck, massages her breasts, jostles the plug inside her with every movement.

It’s slow, but intense pressure rolls through her body like a wave, making the muscles in her legs twitch, making her toes curl up. It’s hard to tell when it really hits, at what point it turns from _on the edge_ to her crying out and shaking with it.

Under her, _around_ her, Ben groans, holding her tight, but not once does he fuck her the way she needs. 

When she blinks her eyes open, he kisses right behind her ear. “Better?”

All that comes out of her mouth is a strangled whimper. 

“Good. Sit back up,” he orders gently. “I’m going to read another chapter.”

Her mind is still a little fuzzy, but that gets her attention. “You’re going to _what?”_

“Did you think we were going to stop? I like you warming my cock.”

The way he says it sounds like he planned this. _Bastard._

Ben doesn’t wait for an answer or response before easing her back to an upright sitting position, but she’s still throbbing, her cunt clenching involuntarily. Rey has to brace her hands on his thighs, balancing herself while she catches her breath. A page flips behind her, and she almost cries in frustration. It only takes a minute for her to realize it was almost crueler to get her off; now she’s twitching on him, everything between her thighs throbbing and needing more. Pleasure still licks up her spine, the tense undercurrent of her orgasm still there.

But he just sighs contently behind her, like he’s unphased. That’s when tears prick at her eyes. She gulps in air, shaking and shivering, and asks, “Could you— I— _Ben—”_

His hand soothes at her side, along her ribs. “Everything okay? Do you need something?”

Rey shakes her head, shuddering out, “More? Please?”

“I’m glad you asked.” He leans forward again, his nose running along the back of her neck. “You need more?” He reaches around her with both hands, slowly running them up and down her abdomen and over her breasts. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you need?”

“More,” she pants, struggling to come up with a better answer. She squirms on him, tears building in her eyes with the way his blunt nails drag down her chest and sides.

“More?” he echoes, muttering the question against the side of her neck. “Be specific or I’ll assume you mean you want me to read more chapters.”

It’s too much. It’s all too much. She’s still clenching around him, still overwhelmed with the thick plug pressed snug inside her. Hiccuping, she tries to answer, but only ends up crying out as he pinches her nipples—not hard enough to hurt, not normally, but she’s coiled so tightly, the brief shock of pleasure-pain turns her whimper to a cry.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“I— I want to move, please,” she finally works out. “Please,” she breathes, “I need—”

Ben nuzzles against her shoulder, interrupting with, “How many times are you asking to bounce on my cock?”

She sniffs, turning her head to the side, toward him as confusion fills her. Her body feels like it’s burning, and she’s… maybe not dizzy, but lightheaded. 

“You want a number?”

He nods against her, his patient facade ruining her.

“I don’t know,” she stammers.

He only gives a sympathetic sigh. “Guess I can’t help you then. Maybe I’ll finish this book tonight. Unless you can come up with a number.”

A sob gets stuck in her throat. She squirms again, trying to get the pressure she needs where she needs it. Ben’s choked groan catches her attention, and _god,_ what a relief it is to know he’s affected, too.

“A number, Rey,” he grunts, “Any fucking number.”

“I— I don’t know, ten?” she blurts, scrambling for an answer. “Twelve? Twenty? Maybe—”

“No,” he interrupts, squeezing her hips to keep her from rocking. “You can do it in less. Seven. If you can’t come from that, I’ll get myself off and you can wait until tomorrow.”

The last bit of her mind that’s rational hopes he’s lying. 

“Get yourself off on me, sweetheart,” he mumbles, his fingers caressing down her front. His hand settles between her hips, pressing against the front of her belly. Her head falls forward with the first lift-off and slide down, to the sound of him groaning out, “Fuck, good, Rey, so good. Just like that.” 

The way her body stretches around him seems impossible, and it’s an even tighter fit with the larger plug. Her response gets garbled and stuck in her throat, but relieved tears spring up at the corner of her eyes when he thumbs at her clit. “Just gonna help. Just a little.” He sprinkles kisses across her shoulders, whispering filthy things. “Just think of how it’s going to feel when it’s my cock and not that plug. We’ll fill every part of you until you can’t take more, hm?”

She tries to clench around him again and again when she’s fully seated. It’s not a question of _if_ she’ll get off; despite his threat, his fingers are circling over and over her, leaving her lightheaded with the stimulation. The second time she rises off him, she comes almost all the way off, shivering as she sinks so, _so_ slowly. Every unyielding inch can be felt when she impales herself on him.

Her legs shake on the third one, because he grips her hip and pulls her all the way back down, faster and deeper than she planned—she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. He presses firmly against her, letting her grind down both on his cock and his fingers, and Rey stills there, with him so _so_ far inside her. Everything out of her mouth is either a moan or a whimper. 

It’s all she can do just to breathe.

“I—I’m going to—”

“I know. I can see you in the mirror. You’re doing that thing you do. Wrinkling your nose.” His voice is gravelly, barely restrained if his grip on her and his utter lack of controlled rhythm over her clit suggests anything. “Come for me if you have to, but I said seven. I want seven. I’m taking at _least_ seven.”

Rey rolls her hips and her entire body tenses, caught between the hand pressing to her belly and the man behind her, holding her firmly in place, only allowing her to _bounce._ She’s trapped, stuffed full and with fingers feverishly working over her swollen clit, pushing her past the point of comfort into mindlessness, her thoughts beginning and ending at all those little nerve endings he’s lighting on fire. Her words evaporate into a cry as she finally _finally_ comes on him, her cunt squeezing around him like she’s trying to make him come with her. 

He reacts quickly, grabbing at her hips with both hands, his fingers splaying across her—he lifts her, bouncing her, and all Rey can do is bite into her fist and let him do what he wants. The quivering doesn’t stop, but he’s ruthless, taking far more than he claimed he wanted. 

She lets him, lets him push her forward, lets him rearrange her until she’s on all fours, lets him fuck her while she babbles (internally or out loud, Rey doesn’t know) that she can’t handle more, that she’s still coming, she’s still— 

“You can,” he grunts. He cups one of her breasts, stroking softly, and moves in slow, deep thrusts. It jostles and pushes at the plug, making her eyes roll back. “You can handle as much as I want you to. You’re doing so fucking well, Rey. So good for me.”

Rey clings to those words, to his continued muttered praises, until her arms shake, until he pushes her front down into the mattress, keeping her hips up so he can fuck her deeper.

The mattress muffles the sounds she makes. She’s a disaster, her eyes full of overwhelmed tears, but the relief she finds in knowing he’s affected, too, is shockingly comforting. Sometimes when he’s all the way inside her, he pauses there, trembling before he keeps going.

She only hears bits and pieces of what he pants.

_Beautiful…. perfect, fucking perfect… like a fucking dream… want to fill you, keep you—_

She shatters into a sobbing, throbbing mess, but it’s okay.

Ben is right there to put her back together.

~*~

A lot of things seem to escape her notice. 

Ben must carry her to the bathroom; at some point, she distantly notes that what’s under her is firm and cold—she’s sitting on a counter, and he’s eased the plug from her.

She feels a little like she’s flying. Like that one time in college when Poe got her and Finn really high and they ended up on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in a daze for what seemed like hours. She’s kind of dizzy, but not in a bad way, and her entire body is lax, like someone’s drained her of every bit of soreness and anxiety she’s ever felt. 

“Gonna wipe your face before bed, okay sweetheart?” he says softly, standing between her thighs. “Just a warm cloth.”

Her eyes must be closed. She sighs as he wipes all over her face, washing away her tears.

“You were so good,” he whispers, kissing her forehead. He keeps dabbing under her eyes. “Still feeling overwhelmed?”

Without opening her eyes, she leans forward, diving against his chest. Ben catches her with a soft laugh, hugging his arms around her. He soothes a hand down her back, holding her tight.

She’s never liked hugs. Or, she _loves_ hugs, in theory, but when you realize you’re never the person to pull away first, you grow to hate them. When they never last long enough, when they end and you’re still desperate to be touched and surrounded by the warmth of another person, sometimes it’s easier not to hug at all.

But Ben’s never pulled away from her hugs first, and he doesn’t now, not even when she soaks the t-shirt he must have put on. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t chide her while she cries, and _oh,_ does she cry.

The first thing she manages to say is a muffled, “Sorry.”

“Shhh, don’t apologize.” He holds her a little tighter. “It’s normal. I promise. There’s no reason to feel bad about anything you’re feeling right now.”

Rey cracks her eyes open, still clinging to him when she glances up. “Yeah? I don’t usually cry. It’s not… off-putting?”

“No, of course not. The crying, the feeling overwhelmed, needing reassurance, needing to be touched? All normal.” His mouth curls a little as he looks down at her, cupping her face. “Can you tell me what you need right now? What would make you happy? Happy, and comfortable?”

Sniffing and wiping at her eyes, Rey nods. “Um. I want to get back in bed. Can I wear one of your shirts? Can we cuddle?”

“Yeah, we can,” he smiles. “Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll get you a shirt.”

She’s still a little weepy, still a little dizzy and overwhelmed, but she smiles back. “Thanks, Ben.”

He presses another kiss to her temple. “Anything for you.”

When she finally stops in front of the bed a few minutes later, her teeth brushed and one of his shirts on, Rey pauses to look at him. He’s sitting on his side of the bed, his rarely seen thick black-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, his book propped in his lap again. In the strangest way, it reminds her of those late nights he’d show up at her spot in the library and convince her to go home and catch a few hours of sleep—he’d always look like he climbed out of bed with messy hair and sleepy eyes, just to come check on her.

She can’t help but stand there and stare, a sudden breathtaking fondness washing over her.

Without looking up from the book he’s focusing on, Ben murmurs, “You know, if you keep staring, you’re going to inflate my ego.”

Rey huffs a laugh, and he glances up at her, smiling. 

“Come on,” he says, nodding to the side that’s become hers. “We can put another movie on, or you can read, or color, or… whatever you want. Just come over here.”

“What, you want another landscape for your fridge?” Rey asks. Her voice comes out soft and tired, emotionally drained, but there’s a teasing undertone.

Ben tilts his head. “I’d love one for my workstation. Unless you’re joking.”

As it sinks in, that he’s serious and _no,_ he isn’t judging her for the things that calm her—not that she logically thought he would, despite the unnecessary lingering fear—she sighs, and tries not to cry again. 

She settles into bed next to him with her book of landscapes and her zippered bag of pencils. Ben wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as he props the book against his legs, flipping the pages with his free hand.

Her heart squeezes at the little absentminded kiss he presses to the side of her head when she curls up next to him.

“Hey, Ben?”

“Mm?”

“Do you prefer a waterfall, a garden, or a countryside?”

He hums, glancing down at the closed book on her lap, like he’s _actually_ considering his options.

“Which one has more green?”

At the question, Rey pauses, frowning up at him. “Why?”

“You love the color green,” he shrugs. “It’ll make me think of you when I see it.”

That seems to be the limit of what she can handle before the tears start back up. Her expression softens into awe as she wipes her face, and her reply comes in a breath. “Hey, I love you. Just in case that wasn’t clear.”

Ben’s eyes flick to hers. When he sees she’s crying again, he hushes her, tightening the arm around her shoulder. 

“Do you really think I don’t notice things? You think, after all these years, I don’t know you?” His mouth finds her forehead, his grin pressing there. “Of course I know your favorite color—I know all those little things about you. I remember how, for the longest time, while you still didn’t like me, I was desperate to know more about you. I think I held on to every little thing I learned as we got to know each other.”

He nuzzles into the side of her face, then sprinkles little kisses all over her cheeks and nose until she can’t help but laugh.

Then, softly, right before he catches her mouth: “And I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)


	6. Chapter 6

When Rey wakes, sleepy and sore and wrapped up in him, it dawns on her—it’s Friday. Their last full day at the resort. When booking the suite, they planned to travel back to their city on a Saturday, giving themselves a full day to catch up on groceries, laundry, and everyday life-stuff before going back to work.

It made sense at the time, but now, she wishes they’d made it _two_ weeks.

Ben’s further down the bed than she is, his head smothered in her chest and his arm slung over her hips. She blinks her eyes open, huffing a quiet laugh at his mess of hair and the placement of his face. She grins, running a hand through his hair as she perches her chin on top of his head. It’s not the cuddling position she expected to wake in, but it’s hard to think of _any_ cuddling position she’d dislike being in with Ben.

She plays with his hair for a little while, feels each of his breaths, and spends the entire time wondering if it’s possible to be happier than she is right now, in this perfect moment. It seems unbelievable that this feeling could be her new normal.

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbles into her chest. His arm curls further around her, and he puffs out a breath against her breast. “Too early.”

He makes a grumbling noise when she laughs, which only makes her laugh harder, to the point where he sighs, pulling away to prop up on an elbow and scowl at her. After a moment of watching her, his mouth quirks.

She catches him staring as her laughter dies out. “What?” she asks through a smile.

“You have an adorable laugh,” he admits. He leans in and kisses her cheek. “Fucking adorable. Sometimes you’re so sweet, I can’t stand it.”

She lets out a soft sigh, her hand rising to cup his cheek. She brushes her thumb across his cheekbone, relieved with the lack of tired blue circles under his eyes, which then crinkle at the edges with his smile.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ben nods. “Anything.”

“Why did you offer? This week, I mean,” she explains. “If you didn’t know I felt the same way, why did you do that to yourself? You said back in college you got to a point where you…” she pauses and swallows, hating the swirling regret in her belly. “A point where you couldn’t keep letting me ruin you. Did something change? Did you think you could handle it for just a week? Or did you think something would come of it?”

His smile tightens and turns a little weary. “It’s complicated. I think part of me hoped something would come of it, but I never thought you’d feel the same way. Mostly, I offered because you’re my friend and I care about you. I knew I’d rather show you how you should expect to be treated in this dynamic, instead of risking you try it with someone who wouldn’t treat you well. It’s not uncommon for people to take up these roles and not embrace all the things they should. I don’t mean to sound condescending, but I wanted to set a good example since you hadn’t explored this yet.”

She hums, nuzzling her nose to his. “Good job.”

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you knew what to expect if you ever wanted to try this with someone else.”

“Oh.” Her nose scrunches up. “No. That’s not happening.”

“Is it not what you were expecting?” His head tilts, his mouth curling into a hesitant frown. “Are you not liking the dynamic?”

“No, no, it’s perfect,” she clarifies in a rush. “That’s not the problem. The problem is the _someone else_ part.” While his expression softens, she lets out a breath, sitting up and scooting back against the headboard. She glances out at the room, her head resting back against the pillows behind her. “You were right, earlier this week. I struggle to trust anyone. Knowing how this feels, knowing how much control I give you… I can’t imagine doing this with anyone but you.” With a brief smile down at him, she adds, “I wouldn’t want to, anyway.”

His throat bobs as he looks up at her, at her messy braided hair and her knees bent up to her chest, and her sleepy, hopeful smile.

“You like it, then?” he asks softly. “Is it something you’d want to continue? With me?”

Her initial answer is a vehement _yes,_ but Rey bites at the inside of her mouth and pauses. “I think so, but what would continuing look like? When we go back to work, and have separate places, and we aren’t sharing a suite and spending every night together? Would it just be a thing we do sometimes, or is it… always on?”

“It depends on what you want. What we both want. This is a little new to me, too.”

“Oh? But you seem well informed on all of this.” She tilts her head. “There’s no way you figured all of this out from a google search.”

Ben hesitates. “I’ve done something related. Distantly related, I’d say.” He works his mouth for a moment, admitting, “I was a submissive, before, though I would have been comfortable in either role. But honestly, this week has been eye-opening. I’m preferring the dynamic you and I have been trying. It’s a better fit than I expected, a _much_ better fit than I’ve experienced before. Getting to take care of someone, getting to take care of _you…_ ” His words trail off, and he gives a shrug. “It’s only been a week and I’m so much happier. I’m less stressed, less anxious. I never realized how much I craved the softer parts.”

It takes Rey a minute to process that. “Oh.” Her eyes widen a little. “ _Oh._ So with Phasma, you were…”

“How do you think I’m so familiar with how you might be feeling?” he asks, his cheeks flushing. It’s sweet, and strangely bashful given the conversations they’ve had over the last week. 

She goes quiet, lets her mind spin with the information. She smiles faintly as he caresses her leg. “This is pretty unrelated, but do you remember that first night we kissed? Way back in that closet?”

He nods, staying quiet like he knows she has more to say.

“I was going to tell you that night. I was going to ask you to walk me home, was going to kiss you again, maybe ask you inside, up to my room.” Her shoulders sag a bit at the thought, but she stares at her knees even as her eyes go watery. “But then the door opened and it was over so quickly, and Poe suggested that _stupid_ game, the— the one with ten fingers? The one where you put a finger down if you’ve done something?”

Ben’s frown comes through in his response, “Never have I ever?”

“Yeah,” she says, staring at her knees. “I sat next to you, and I was _reeling,_ Ben. I’d never kissed anyone like that or felt that way after kissing someone and, I don’t know, the game kept going and I barely paid any attention because I couldn’t stop thinking about how you kissed me. But then I heard someone say _never have I ever been in love_ and when I looked over at you, you’d put a finger down, and fuck, I hadn’t even known you and Phasma had gotten so close, I thought you’d only known her a month or two, but—”

The hand on her leg squeezes hard enough to get her attention. She blinks, looking over at Ben with watering eyes, only to find a deep level of confusion in his expression.

“Rey, she and I had only gotten coffee a few times,” he mumbles. “We were friends. Interning for Snoke was brutal, and Phas was the only friendly person I’d met there. I think we’d gotten coffee, maybe gone to a work mixer? She was nice, and we got along, but it was way too early to have feelings like that, especially when I was so hung up on you.”

“I know, I know,” she nods. “I get that now, but Ben, it’s never been easy to think rationally around you. You just— you suck all the air out of a room, you make me lightheaded. I saw you put a finger down and my heart broke, and it took so long to realize why. By the time I figured out how I felt, I thought it was too late.”

His mouth works. “And you didn’t think for a minute I might have put a finger down because I was in love with you?”

She had. She had, after so many moments of looking over at him during a class, wondering if life could be good enough to allow them _both_ to feel the same way. It didn’t seem possible then, and still barely seems possible even while she’s curled up in bed with him. 

“Ben,” she says softly. “It’s a struggle to be here with you today and believe that this is real. Do you really think, back then, I could do more than dare to hope? And even if I ever did let myself hope, I was terrified by how much I could see myself relying on you. I don’t rely on people, Ben. Over time, it’s gotten easier, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. That’s why I’m still a little nervous to move forward with you. I want to and I will, but what if I’m not good at it?”

Ben tilts his head at her. “How could you be anything but great at it?”

“Well,” she starts, “It’s one thing to rely on someone for a week, but we’re not talking about a week. What if I’m scared to rely on you long-term? What if I’m afraid the attractiveness of it will wear off and you’ll think I’m a burden? I feel like a burden in my _friendships._ Even with friends, there’s this voice in my head insisting I’m a nuisance, that I’m needy and clingy. It’s why I don’t _do_ relationships—do you have any idea how terrifying it is to need someone? I worry about how much I’ll be a burden in a relationship, never mind a relationship that might involve you specifically taking care of me.”

“But what if I’m desperate for that? What if I know exactly how it feels to need someone, because I need _you?_ ” he argues gently. “If this is needy and clingy, then I’m those things, too, Rey. I don’t think you realize, this past week has been something I’ve wanted with you for a long time, even if I didn’t know how to put words to it.” Then, softly, “And loving someone is never a burden, whether it’s friendship or more.”

She tries to ignore her watering eyes as she shakes her head. “This is more than loving someone, though. It’s—“

“Taking care of someone _is_ loving them,” he interrupts. “And you’re wrong, I’m never going to think you’re a burden. You’re acting like me taking care of you is a new thing that just started this week, but I was taking care of you—I was _loving you—_ when I tried to convince you to take my class notes so you could sleep late freshman year. I was loving you when I lied and said I accidentally bought an extra copy of one of our textbooks and told you the store wouldn’t let me return it. I was loving you when I just _happened_ to make sure I left the library at the right time every Thursday and Friday night to walk you home from your late shifts at work.”

He stops for a moment, and gives her a look, like she’s a complete idiot. “Don’t you realize I’ve been loving you in one way or another this whole time? This week was just that. Just me loving you. How could that ever be a burden?”

Maybe the urge to cry should be familiar after the last few days, but she still gives him a very half-hearted scowl. She sniffs, wiping at her eyes. “Haven’t I cried enough this week?” she laughs. Then she pauses, her frown at him deepening. “Did you really lie about that textbook? _Ben,_ that was such an expensive—”

“You’re really going to complain about me buying you a book?” he teases, glancing at her with soft eyes. “It’s been, what, eight years? Nine? It’s probably time to get over it.”

Rey sighs, shaking her head at him as though she’s annoyed, but it’s impossible to see the way he grins at her and not grin a little herself.

He hums when he finally gets her to smile, like that was his entire goal, and then he rises on his knees while she watches him. He moves slowly, gripping her bent knees so he can spread them and position himself between them, lowering down over her. He settles right on top of her, between her knees with his head resting on her lower belly.

“You asked what continuing like this would look like once we’re not on vacation?”

Rey murmurs a _yes,_ reaching down to run her fingers through his hair, and Ben lets out another breath, nuzzling the side of his face into her abdomen.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I think it’s something we have to figure out as we go. I know I said I wanted to take things slow, and I _do_ want to go slow with big things like moving in together, marriage, things like that. But I don’t want to backtrack. I want us to keep having conversations like this, where we talk about how we feel, what we want. I want to _date,_ I want you to come over so I can cook you dinner, I want you to stay the night and sleep in my clothes. I want to scold you for taking work calls on a weekend and I want to invite you to awkward family dinners. I want all of that.”

“Me, too,“ Rey whispers, smiling down at how her fingers are twined in his waves. 

“But I need you to trust that none of this is a burden.”

That’s a taller hurdle, but it’s a little easier if it’s an order. It’s a little easier, hearing it put firmly _._ _Easier,_ not easy, but she still nods. “Okay. I’ll try.”

He sighs contently, then slides further down the bed, until his face is level with her thighs. He kisses her there, nuzzles into the cotton of her panties, and even after everything, she still blushes, covering her face with a hand.

“Um. Ben?” she asks, a little awkwardly. 

“Did you need something?” he replies, but it’s muffled into her skin.

Through the thin cotton, she can feel his warm breath. His hand slides over her thigh to lift her leg over his shoulder, and she swallows. “I feel like I should make a _breakfast in bed_ joke.”

Ben huffs a laugh, his fingers tugging the gusset of her panties aside. “Hey, Rey?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been so good this morning,” he says, a genuine tone to his voice. “I’m happy you know you can tell me how you feel and what you want. But now I’m going to need you to shut up while I enjoy myself, okay?”

There’s a little curl to her mouth when she asks politely, “Is that an order?”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter. After a moment, he sighs, “Maybe long term, we can reconsider that _no punishment_ request. Maybe something like orgasm withholding or delay.”

“I’ll think about— _oh.”_

Ben spreads her with his fingers and slowly presses one into her, and his mouth tilts in that charming, arrogant way it does when he knows he’s gotten his way. Her head falls back onto the pillow, and she closes her eyes and tangles her fingers in his hair, relaxing in his hold.

Any concerns still in her mind fade around the edges, bit by bit, with every lick of his tongue.

~*~

It’s past noon by the time they walk into the restaurant in the resort's lobby. They’ve been eating in their room or by the pool all week, but with the rain, Ben suggested the restaurant. Unsurprisingly, it’s bustling with guests when they arrive, and they get shuffled toward a small table, sitting against a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out at the pool.

Rain falls in heavy drops, spattering against the window, leaving the pool and patio empty. If the skies weren’t streaked through with the occasional flash of lightning, she’d try to persuade Ben outside for a swim in the rain since the pool’s empty. Rey perches her chin on her knuckles, looking out at it. The weather seems oddly appropriate for the week she _could_ have had if she’d dodged his questions that first night and shrugged off the reasons for her arrangement with Snap ending.

Would she have ever told anyone what she likes? Probably not, Rey realizes. It’s a pang to the heart, having that sink in. If Ben hadn’t prodded for an answer, she’d still feel her tastes are odd and she’d still think nobody would understand.

Alternatively, if she’d taken Ben up on his offer, but never taken that risk in the rain, never told him she loved him? It would have been a tragic week, learning him and his touch and his body, only to go home alone with nothing but a broken heart and brief memories of a could-have-been.

A throat clears from across the table, and she blinks, glancing at the man who _didn’t_ break her heart.

His smile is warm and sweet as he abandons his menu and reaches across the table, past napkins, glasses, and silverware. His hand wraps around hers, squeezing gently. “Everything okay? You look… sad.”

“Mm, maybe thoughtful,” she admits. “Sad, no. I was thinking about what a mess I’d be right now, if we’d tried things this week and I’d gotten to today without telling you how I feel. I think it would have ruined me.”

“Me, too,” Ben nods. His thumb caresses over the back of her hand. “Thankfully that didn’t happen.”

Rey hums, her smile turning a little nervous, but in a good way. “Thankfully. I was also thinking how relieved I am that I was honest with you, our first night here. You know, I was scared you’d judge me. I should have known better, but I’m very glad I was wrong.”

His grin widens. “Good. I hope that means you feel like you can always be honest with me.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Yeah, I do.”

His hand squeezes hers, his mouth working in that way that always makes her want to kiss him. With a brief smile, he gestures toward her menu, but doesn’t stop holding her hand. “What are you ordering? Have you checked the menu?”

“I always get the same sort of thing,” she admits. “But no, I haven’t looked. I’m overwhelmed, I think.” At the concern in his gaze, she clarifies, “Not in a bad way, but this is a _lot._ A lot of amazing change, but change is change. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot of it this week, too, and it’s just— it can be amazing and something I want and still be a _lot,_ you know? Like, so much is changing and so much is new and it’s all _good,_ but it feels a little out of control. I thought I knew how the next week, month, year, looked for me and it was practically set in stone, and now…” 

She pauses, letting out a long breath, and gives him a shrug. "Now it isn’t. Now I don’t even know what I’m doing next weekend. And that’s _good,_ it’s incredible, but it’s also—”

“Terrifying?”

“Yeah,” she breathes through a smile.

Ben nods. He stays quiet for a minute, just rubbing his thumb along the side of hers, and just that little soothing action helps. It doesn’t stop the anxious fluttering in her chest, but it _helps._

“Is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

“It’s not something that needs to be fixed,” Rey replies. “It’s good, _very_ good. Just different.”

“A lot to process?” Ben tilts his head, squeezing her hand again. “Is it hard to focus on anything else? You’re so caught up in wrapping your mind around what’s happening that your head spins when you try to—”

“Hold a normal conversation?” she interrupts, “Or figure out what I want to order? I mean, I’m sitting here staring at a menu and all I can think is _how am I going to go back to sleeping alone?_ and from there, I realized you could sleep over, and then I started wondering when you’d next want to sleep over and if I should buy nicer sheets, and I don’t know, my mind somehow got to these _his and hers_ coffee mugs I saw and bookmarked just in case I ever had a _his_ to share them with, and now maybe I can buy them, but _Ben_ , I never thought it’d be you, and,” she gives a breathless laugh, “And somehow I’m still supposed to know what I want to order for lunch, but all I can think about is everything else.”

He nods again, and his expression is so full of fondness, her heart pounds a little harder. 

“Then let me help,” Ben offers. “That’s part of what we’re doing this week, anyway, right? You can relax, process, whatever you need. Let me help with all the other stuff.” He pauses, then asks hesitantly, “Would you mind if I ordered for you? I have a bad feeling you still order whatever has the best quantity-to-price ratio, anyway.”

“But what about you?” Her mouth curls into a frown, and deserved or not, guilt swirls in her stomach. “We keep talking about what _I_ need, what _I_ want, what will make _me_ feel good, but what about you? You’re dealing with a lot more than me right now, and I feel like we should be more focused on you and maybe less focused on what I’m going to order, because, let’s be honest, you’re just going to order me something outrageously expensive when we both know I’ll like it but I have the palette of a stoned college student who prefers chicken nuggets, so you may as well save your money, and—”

Ben interrupts her with a single pointed stare. Or maybe it’s more of a glower, a frown with a little edge of something threatening. Whatever it is makes her flush and makes her shut her mouth. After a moment of waiting for him to say something, she startles at the pleased grin he suddenly gives.

“Good,” he hums.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, and the movement jostles the surface just enough to be noticeable. “Rey,” he says lowly, glancing around, probably to make sure he isn’t about to be overheard by waitstaff. “Why don’t you remind me what our rules are.”

“Transparency,” she murmurs, and if it was possible to be more red, she would be. “No second-guessing what you want, unless something is past my limits, though I think it was more in the context of not questioning when you do nice things for me.” Upon his nod, she continues, “And no telling myself I don’t deserve the way you treat me, or the nice things you do.”

It’s hard to not let a smile seep into her voice during the last part.

“You asked what our relationship will look like,” he says after a moment. “I think I want to keep those rules. What do you think? We continue being as honest as possible, especially regarding what we feel and what we need, and we _both_ trust that when one of us is doing something nice for the other, it’s because that person _wants_ to.” He slides his free hand across the table, grasping her hand with both of his. “I need you to not feel guilty for accepting nice things, whether it’s a gift or just me taking care of you. If you’re concerned about what I want and what I need, that’s what I need.”

He hesitates as he looks down at their hands. “You think this entire week has been catering to you, don’t you?”

“Hasn’t it?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, not at all. This week has been exactly what I needed.”

Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising. He’s said just as much a few times, but there’s something about the way he says it now, with his hands gripping hers and his warm gaze urging her to believe him, that makes it sink in. Her shoulder sag, a tension she hadn’t noticed build up finally releasing. She nods, and she quiets the part of her that struggles to believe him.

The guilt fades.

“Okay, good. And yes,” she answers, her smile a little tight, but far from fake. “Yes, we can keep the rules. And if you want to add to them, that’d be okay, too. I’d like to talk about this might work in a relationship, but maybe not here.”

 _That_ seems to take him by surprise. “Really? Add more?” His throat bobs as he seems to remember where they are. Sitting back in his seat, Ben takes another look around, and then says, “I might have some in mind. We should talk about that. But you’re right—not here. After lunch? Back in our room?”

She can’t help but grin at his failure to act nonchalant.

“I’d like that.”

~*~

Lunch is quiet and uneventful, but it’s a comfortable and much-needed quiet that comes with no awkward tension. Ben says all either of them need to say with the occasional gentle squeeze of his hand around hers.

He swallows when she brings up the _rules_ again and works his jaw when she licks her fingers—the way he toes the line between flustered and in control is so adorable she almost interrupts him with a kiss after lunch when he tells her to go get whatever she wants from the mini-convenience store inside the lobby. 

Rey almost leaves the store without getting anything; this week, she’s had enough chocolate to last a month, and she still has most of a bottle of bubble bath in their room. But then her eyes snag on a colorful display. She stares at it for a moment before an idea on how to relieve some tension pops into her mind, and her grin widens with mischief. Without a second thought, she picks out a bright red speckled lollipop and unwraps it once it’s paid for.

Ben spends the entire elevator trip up to their room with his gaze glued to her mouth.

The lollipop isn’t _too_ sweet. It’s a gourmet one, the kind that comes in thirty different flavors, like bubblegum or even kiwi. Hers is cinnamon, a perfect spicy-sweet that she isn’t inclined to bite. She licks it instead, smiling sweetly at him when it’s in her mouth, sticking out the side of her cheek.

Ben blinks, then clears his throat as he looks away, looks at _anything_ else.

She tries not to laugh, but he catches her when she snorts, and realization dawns across his face, along with a little smirk.

His arm curls around her waist as the elevator door opens, and he urges her toward their room, getting the door open quickly. The second the door’s closed behind them, he murmurs, “You wouldn’t happen to be teasing me, would you?”

Rey leans back against the door, crossing an arm over her chest. She tugs the pop from her mouth, giving it a swirling lick while staring him down. With a little shrug, she replies innocently, “That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

“Really?” His throat bobs, his eyes catching on the way her lips clamp around the little ball of cinnamon-flavored sweetness. She sucks at it, hollowing her cheeks, and Ben’s lips press tight together. His hands land on either side of her head, bracketing her as he leans in. “Sure, Rey,” he says brusquely, his voice thick. Her eyes widen as one of his hands slides to hold her jaw, keeping her from opening her mouth to reply or tease at the lollipop. Her breathing stutters as he takes the white stick of it, twirling it carefully in her mouth.

“If you want to _play_ , if you’re going to tease me, here’s what we’re going to do,” he murmurs. “Put the candy away for later, and then strip. You have… a minute. _One_ minute. I’ll be waiting—” he gestures to the chair she sat in the morning he confiscated her computer, “Over there.”

And then he lets her go, leaves her pressed against the door, her mind reeling with how little effort that took. 

“One minute, Rey,” he calls back.

She scrambles out of her clothes and leaves the lollipop in a clean cup, stowing it on her nightstand. When she glances to Ben, having left all her clothes in a messy path from the door, he’s lounging in the armchair, watching her with dark eyes and an amused expression.

“Good,” he hums, when she comes to stand in front of him. And then, to her surprise: “We’re going to have a conversation.”

She frowns, raising a brow at him. “You wanted me naked for a conversation?”

“I suppose it’ll be a one-sided conversation.”

She must look as confused as she is, because Ben explains, “Since you were having so much fun with that lollipop, I’m going to discuss some rules while we see how far down your throat you can take me.”

He says it in that way that always catches her off-guard. It’s so casual, so matter-of-fact, like he wasn’t just blushing over her teasing him with a piece of candy. He gestures to the floor at his feet, waiting patiently, his gaze traveling down her chest and abdomen. Part of her wants to ask why she’s naked for this, but her urge to be _good_ overtakes her curiosity. 

The carpeting is soft against her knees. Rey positions herself between his thighs, obsessing a little at how massive he seems, towering over her while he unzips his pants. She glides her hands up his legs, leaning forward to help, and she _shouldn’t_ be so surprised by his size, not after the week they’ve had—she’s felt every inch, been stretched out around him so many times in this very room, she’s somehow already lost count how many times—but her mouth waters once her hand is wrapped around his cock.

He’s impossibly hard, pre-come leaking from his tip, and she licks it without hesitation, so desperate to taste him. She licks a few strips up the ridge of him, then along a vein, exploring in a way he hasn’t let her yet. He seems content to watch, but when she wraps both hands around his base, perching her forearms on his thighs, he shakes his head.

“Mm, no. No hands. Either keep them in your lap or behind your back.”

Rey pauses, but lets go of his cock, catching the head of it with her mouth while she drops her hands to her own thighs. It’s hard to have control without her hands, but she swirls her tongue around him, getting her lips and his cock wet with saliva. She works her way down slowly, stretching her lips tight around him, and bobs her head, but Ben reaches out, curling a hand around the back of her neck, urging her closer.

“Just relax for me,” he says, “Relax your jaw, and tap your hand against my thigh if you need me to stop. Consider that our safeword for this, okay? Nod if you understand.”

It’s a subtle movement, but she gives him a nod as she looks up at him. She relaxes, tries to let her jaw go lax, and the hand around the back of her neck slides up, fingers tangling through her hair. He pulls her forward gently, little by little while she slides her tongue around him to ease any friction. He keeps going, easing himself past her lips until his cock bumps the back of her throat. 

She gags, only a little, but Ben stills, holding her head there. Rey squeezes her own thighs while she waits for whatever he’s going to do next. There’s a trickle of arousal from her cunt, but she stays still, the way he seems to want.

“Relax your throat,” Ben instructs softly. “Take a deep breath, in through your nose.”

She does, and it’s oddly calming, remembering she can still breathe. 

But then he pulls her closer, and her eyes go wide.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “Breathe. Just focus on that. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you stay, just like this?”

Tears build at her eyes, but she swallows, even with him at the back of her throat. She makes some sort of noise around him, a pitiful, garbled attempt at _Uh huh._

Ben’s mouth curls as he looks down at her. With the hand that’s not holding her head in place, he reaches down, wiping at her eyes. “Look at you,” he croons. “You look so good like this, with your pretty mouth on my cock. We’re going to stay just like this for a bit while I talk, okay? Then, when I’m done talking, I’m going to fuck your mouth properly.”

A shiver runs down her spine and seems to end up at her clit, but she waits patiently, trying to focus on breathing, just like he said.

“So, adding rules,” he sighs, as though he’s utterly unaffected by her mouth on him. “I’d like to add a two that will be relevant as we move forward, living in different places. Rule four—when we’re not sleeping over together, I want you to text or call me before you go to bed and tell me how your day was.”

Rey swallows again, her tongue caught under the weight of his cock, and her chest heaves, but Ben keeps talking.

“You don’t have to tell me much, especially on days when you need space, but I want to know that you’re okay, and I want to know if you need anything. Even if you’ve had an awful day and all you want is your dinner delivered, I want to know that so I can take care of you. How does that sound?”

He glances down at her like she might reply, and then grins. “Oh. Right. Anyway, that’ll be rule four. Nightly check-ins, even if they’re just a _sorry, had a long day, talk later._ And then, rule five… unless you have anything you want to add, rule five will be the last one I add until we’ve had time to see how things are going.”

Readjusting a little, Ben manages to—inadvertently, perhaps—push himself further into her. This time she gags hard, and he lets go of her, letting her pull all the way off him while she gasps. There are hot tears rolling down her cheeks, but Rey wipes them away, her chest rising and falling as she swallows. 

Ben cups her face, tilting her head up to him. Concern swims in his eyes as he asks, “Are you okay? Was that too much? Do you need to stop?”

“No,” she manages, but it comes out like a croak. She shakes her head, sputtering, “No, it was fine. You just went deeper, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting it, but we don’t need to stop.”

His thumb slides across her bottom lip, then wipes at saliva at the corner of her mouth. “You were doing so well,” he says lowly. “But now that you can, tell me what you think of rule four.”

Her reply comes out a little breathless. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “But I want the same from you. A text or call before you fall asleep, assuming you aren’t next to me.”

It’s soft, the way he smiles at her. “Okay. I can do that. Ready to try again?”

Rey responds by opening her mouth, and it takes his groan for it to click; he’s a _mess._ She must have been too distracted trying not to choke to see it, because Ben is miles from unaffected. His cheeks are flushed, one hand’s knuckles are white with how he grips the chair’s arm, and his jaw is tight, like he’s barely containing himself.

It makes her want to see him fall apart.

He eases himself back into her mouth, but Rey speeds the process up—she nestles closer, hollowing her cheeks while she sucks him in further, reveling in the quiet but sharp inhale she hears from him. Ben leans forward, taking her face in both hands. His fingers spread, his thumbs staying near the sides of her face while the rest of his fingers slide into her hair. He brings her as close as she was before, and stills.

Rey takes a slow breath in, letting her eyes flutter closed. She wants to be _good,_ wants to hear him babble praise while he uses her and finds she’s perfect for this. It takes a moment, but she finally gets her jaw and throat to go lax.

With her hands curling around his legs, she pulls herself closer, closer and closer until her nose is nestled against his skin and soft curling hair. When she chokes a little, it’s instinct to pull back, but he’s holding her _so_ tight against him. She has no choice but to stay calm, to breathe and relax, like he keeps telling her.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes out. “That’s so good, sweetheart. You can handle it, I know you can.”

She whimpers around his cock, but it’s almost comforting, the way he holds her there, keeping her in place.

Ben’s voice is thick and heady as he works out the words, “Rule five. At least once a week—” he pauses, grunting a low swear when she swallows around him, “Once a week _minimum_ , you tell me about something you want. New shades of colored pencils, books, whatever. Something you— _fuck—_ won’t let yourself indulge in. You can make me a list of things.” He stops to pant, holding her head with only one hand so he can swipe a finger under her eyes, clearing her tears. “I want you to have everything you want,” he murmurs, staying down at her. “Everything, and then more.”

It shouldn’t be possible for him to be so sweet, for him to look down at her with so much love, while his cock is down her throat and she’s a mess.

“Can you do that for me?” he asks gently. “Can you let me spoil you?”

She hums around him, and at the vibration, Ben squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before he looks at her again. His voice is shaky, but he says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He tugs her back, his cock sliding past her lips until he’s halfway out, and then he pushes back in, fucking her mouth just like he promised. Rey can’t help the whine that comes from her, but he keeps going, bobbing her mouth on him as he wants. She struggles to handle it, struggles to keep her breathing calm, and she goes slack in his grasp, surrendering.

Because she’s _good,_ and Ben murmurs that over and over, reassuring her as he goes deeper with each bob of her head, with each roll of his hips.

“You can do it,” he promises. “I know you can, just breathe and I’ll handle the rest.”

Rey zones out a little, closing her eyes and counting her breaths as he uses her, but she catches bits of what he says and she clings to the praise, to the sweet words of encouragement.

“So good, letting me fuck you like this,” he groans. “Perfect, _perfect,_ Rey. Fuck, I hope you’re dripping, I’m going to make you feel so good, just like you’re making me feel good. I’m going to—”

The feeling of choking doesn’t stop, and her tears stream down her face while she focuses all of herself on _not_ panicking, not pulling away. Her body’s screaming, torn between struggling not to gag and feeling desperate to be touched and _filled_ , but every thrust of his cock through her lips makes the warring feelings fade.

Everything fades, everything but the sound of her breaths and the feeling of a cock fucking her mouth, bumping at the back of her throat again and again. Distantly, she hears him groan and shudder—he draws himself from her mouth, and thick, warm cum spatters on her neck and her chest before Rey even manages to look up.

Ben’s eyes are closed when she glances up at him, and he’s panting, his cheeks flushed. He cracks his eyes open, meeting her gaze. His hand leaves her head, sliding down to the mess he’s made of her chest. While she catches her breath, he drags a finger between her breasts, raising it to her mouth. 

Obediently, she sucks at the tip of his finger, licking the slightly salty cum off it. Ben groans again. “Fuck, you really are perfect.” Then, gently, “Was that okay?”

She nods slowly, swallowing and finding her throat a little sore.

Ben stares at her, his gaze flicking between her chest and her mouth, like he can’t quite believe what just happened.

“How do you feel?” he asks, cupping her face. His thumb glides over her wet, swollen lips. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Rey sighs, sagging against his legs. She rests her head on his thigh. Then she asks, a bit anxiously, “Was that good?”

He makes a strange noise, something like a scoff. “It was _incredible.”_ He caresses the side of her face, smooths a hand down her hair, and whispers, “You were perfect, sweetheart. So good for me, I’m so happy. But… I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“Hmm?”

“I need you to tell me what would make _you_ feel good right now. Can I touch you? Or do you want a shower?” Sounding pleased, he adds, “I made a mess of you.”

“Both,” she murmurs. “Shower. Touching. Both.”

Ben huffs a laugh. “Both? Okay. I think we can do that.”

It’s careful, the way he moves her so he can stand, and he doesn’t bother helping her to her feet. Instead, he swoops her up and carries her into the bathroom like she’s as light as a pillow. He sits her on the counter while he gets the shower water going, testing it with a hand to get it as warm as she likes. Rey watches him in a daze, watches him adjust the water until he’s happy, watches him strip before he walks back to her.

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to kiss her forehead. “How are you feeling? Still good?”

Rey nods, smiling as she rests her head against his bare chest. It feels a little like being drunk; she’s warm, pliable. 

He murmurs into her hair, “Here’s what I’m thinking we do for the rest of the day—I want to get in the shower and take my time washing you. Then I want to brush out your hair and braid it, then get you on that bed and fuck you nice and slow.”

“Mm, then what?”

She can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, “Then maybe a movie? I don’t know. I just want to hold you.”

Liking the sound of that, she repeats, “Then what?”

“Hmm. Then dinner, if you’re hungry. Might be nice to check out a restaurant outside the resort—maybe one we passed on the way here? Dinner, maybe a walk or a swim if it’s stopped raining. After, we could come back here, do whatever you want.”

She leans back, staring up at him while it truly sinks in, what happens _after._

Still, she whispers, “And then what, Ben?”

He tilts his head, finally seeming to understand. He exhales slowly, cupping her face.

“And then we go home,” he says simply. “And then… and then, it’s real. It’s us, it’s dating and texting goodnight. Missing each other and holding each other’s hands, and staying over. Going to family dinners and moving in together and… everything. Everything and anything we want, Rey.” He hesitates, just before he gives her a smile she’s seen before. “Sound okay?”

It’s the same breathless smile he gave her that day when he held his hand out to help her up, the smile he gave her that first time she agreed to let him buy her coffee.

She nods, and suddenly, the relief that Ben will never again be her _might have been_ is overwhelming in the most incredible way.

“Yeah,” she breathes, her lips curling in an unstoppable smile. “That sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 8 is just an epilogue, sorry for the wait on this one!

Things change, and they don’t. 

Rey has more sex, she sleeps alone less often, she gets used to having a plug inside her whenever Ben asks, and she thaws a bit regarding him buying her things. Her colored pencil collection expands, she eats more home-cooked meals, and she gets better at acknowledging her own moods—good _and_ bad—thanks to his rule about checking in with him nightly. She gets better at being honest when she needs something, and more importantly, she gets better at _recognizing_ when she needs something.

She gets better at admitting—even just to herself—that sometimes she _needs._ Needs Ben, needs to be touched, needs to be reminded she’s _good…_ and that’s _okay._ It’s normal. It’s human.

So maybe a lot changes, but at the same time, it’s like she and Ben pick up exactly where they left off, just with a decade’s worth of added life experience.

Within weeks, she sleeps in one of his sweaters—in his _arms—_ more often than she doesn’t.

It’s around the one-month mark, when the chill of Fall is slowly settling in and replacing the heat of summer days, when she sags in her chair at work, and her eyes land on a new desk decoration. The photo is old, not a reprinted copy—a photo of a decade ago, of Ben’s arm around her and his boyish smile and messy hair, all his attention focused on her, and not the camera. In the photo, she’s caught mid-laugh, with a flush that comes with a couple of drinks, oblivious to the crystal-clear love that’s in her best friend’s eyes.

Over the past few weeks, Ben’s gone through the box he shoved to the back of his closet, and he’s taken everything out. This photo got framed and gifted to her, but others are hanging at his place now. 

Her gaze softens at it now and she reaches out to it, her thumb soothing over the wood of the frame.

 _I want another picture,_ she texts him a minute later. _That’s my request this week. Another picture for my desk. I’m building a collection._

As has become usual, Ben texts back quickly, his every waking moment no longer consumed by work unless he’s elbow deep under the hood of a car alongside his father. 

_You might have something else for your desk soon. But I can add a photo, sweetheart. Are we still on for tonight?_

She starts to type out a _yes, please,_ but someone clears their throat, and she hears the voice of their office manager greet, “Hey, Rey! You got a plant. We didn’t miss your birthday, did we?”

Frowning, she leaves the phone beside her keyboard and swivels around to Kaydel, shaking her head. The plant the woman’s holding in both hands is a small cactus in a deep green pot, and Rey’s mouth curls when she sees it. “I— _no,_ you didn’t miss my birthday,” she laughs. She takes the plant, grinning widely. “I think my boyfriend decided I needed more green on my desk.”

Kaydel leaves with a “Cuuute,” and Rey’s left there at her desk, shaking her head at the new plant that’s a beautiful vibrant green. It’s closest to her _shamrock_ pencil, she thinks. A nice medium shade, not a bright lime or chartreuse, and certainly not as dark as an evergreen or moss. It’s right in the middle. 

She huffs as she notices a little envelope taped to the back, boasting her name in what’s obviously Ben’s handwriting. The card inside is plain, just a folded square of card stock, but when she opens it up and reads the single word— _Tonight.—_ she knows what it’s referring to. Her cheeks burn, and despite how vague it is, she closes the card quickly, shoving it back into the envelope.

The pending text of _yes, please,_ gets deleted in exchange for something more amusing.

_Did you just send me a plant to request anal sex?_

He replies exactly as she expects: _Strange, I don’t believe I included a question mark._

Rey snorts. _Then I’ll see you tonight._

 _Come over after work,_ he texts back. _It’ll take a while to get you ready._

She squeezes her thighs together at the words _get you ready,_ and shivers as she thinks of how the largest plug has felt lately. It’s taken this long to work up to taking it comfortably, and last time—just a few days ago—it sat inside her and made every inch of her feel electrified as Ben sucked and licked her until she cried. It left her a sweaty, oversensitive mess, stretched out across his bed while he did what he wanted and took everything he could.

It’s a gross understatement when she replies coolly, _looking forward to it._

~*~

Ben’s place is different now. It’s subtle, but she’s been able to spot the changes every time she’s here. She lets herself in after work, smiling at the silver key he put on her keyring not two weeks after they got home from the resort.

Whenever she stays over, usually a couple times a week, there’s some new added touch. Something small that makes it feel less like it was professionally staged by a realtor trying to sell the place. A new rug, a new blanket hanging off the back of a chair, a new framed picture, an addition to his growing stack of fiction books sitting on a coffee table now that he has time to read. Little things a less familiar person might not think much of, but to Rey, each one is a reminder that Ben doesn’t just sleep here anymore. This isn’t a place he rushes in and out of, and it isn’t a place he often fails to come home to because he fell asleep in his office.

Now he _lives_ here.

When she walks in, he’s rifling through mail at his dining room table, a little smudge of grease at his jaw. There’s more on his hands and on the white t-shirt stretched across his chest. It means hasn’t showered yet since finishing his shift at the garage, and _that_ means he’s waiting so he can pull her into the shower with him.

His smile is bright when he looks over at her. 

“Hey, you. Did you like the cactus?”

Rey slips off her shoes, leaving them on the new welcome mat he’s set by the door. “It’s perfect,” she nods. “Very cute, though you made Kay worry she missed my birthday.”

He drops the mail and crosses the hardwood floor—now partly covered with a homey blue carpet—and bends down for a kiss, careful not to get grease all over her pale yellow button-up. 

“I thought it’d live longer than flowers,” he explains, nuzzling his nose to hers. “And cacti are supposed to be resilient. Good desk-plants.”

Rey hums, kissing his warm mouth again. It isn’t _exactly_ a ploy to postpone anything. Mostly, she just wants to kiss him, but she’d be lying if she claimed there wasn’t a part of her that thrummed with nerves. Unnecessary nerves, but _nerves._

He must forget about the grease, because he reaches up to hold her face, kissing her back with all the enthusiasm of their first. When they break for air, his forehead rests against hers, his smile wide as he whispers, “I love doing that.” He leans back, nodding his head toward the hallway. “Come take a shower with me. You need to relax.”

It shouldn’t be surprising that he can tell, but Rey feigns confusion. “Do I seem tense?”

Ben gives her a long look, narrowing his eyes. “Am I wrong?”

She hesitates, and she shouldn’t.

“Transparency,” he hums, and she really should know better by now, because she’s recently discovered the consequences of breaking a rule. The memory of being edged for an evening the day after falling asleep before texting him goodnight isn’t one she’ll forget. “It’s okay if you’re nervous, but I’d like to know so I can help you feel _less_ nervous.”

Rey gives him a small grin. “Of course I am. Though I’m guessing that won’t change your plans?”

“No,” he laughs. “No, it won’t. But I’m glad you told me.” He reaches over, tucking hair behind her ear—she’s started leaving it down more often when she sees him in hopes that he’ll tangle his fingers in it or brush it out. “Go get in the shower.”

The command—as soft as it is—is calming in a way she would have once thought strange. She doesn’t question her response anymore; it makes sense, now that she’s had time to think it through. It’s a relief, letting someone make the choices sometimes, letting someone decide what’s best for her when she’s stressed or tired or even just whenever she wants.

So she nods, the ball of nerves in her stomach easing, just a bit.

~*~

Ben’s shower is a nice one—the sort that has glass walls that steam up and that you can be pressed against when someone’s decided to fuck you mid-shower. The odds of such a thing happening tonight sit at about 50-50, Rey wagers, but Ben doesn’t indicate his plans. He only walks her under the steady stream of water, easing her head back to wet her hair while he kisses along her throat.

Surrendering to him is easier with practice. It’s no longer a thing she allows; it’s a thing that _is._

He washes her hair, just as he does in every shower they share, which is most. Rey keeps her eyes closed, lets her mind wander and her body relax so he can move her as needed, and in the back of her mind she thinks it means something—the way he does all these little tasks is in a way that doesn’t make them feel like _tasks._

When she takes a shower herself—when she takes care of herself, whether it’s washing her own hair or eating proper meals—it’s just an action, a thing to check off a daily to-do list. But when Ben does the same things, when he washes her, cooks her a meal, reads her a book, _anything,_ it doesn’t feel like a job or an obligation. He does each thing—even for the dozenth or twentieth time—as though he can’t believe he’s allowed.

“You’re still tense,” he murmurs against her shoulder. “Will it help if I tell you everything I have planned for tonight?”

“Maybe, yeah.”

He straightens up, rinsing the honey-scented shampoo from her hair. “First, the shower.” There’s a little huff of laughter. “Obviously. _Then,_ we’re going to spread you out on my bed, get you _so_ relaxed and pliant. We’re going to use that plug you liked last time—remember how nice that was, how well it stretched you out?”

She shivers in his arms at the thought, mumbling in agreement.

“I’m going to make you come with that in. At least once. Probably more than once,” he says, his voice deceptively sweet. “And it’s going to be a lot, sweetheart. It might be overwhelming, but I know you can handle it. We need to make sure you’re nice and ready, soft and relaxed for me. Because… do you know what I’ll do next, Rey?”

She does. But still, she bites at her lip, shaking her head so he’ll say it. He murmurs it against her forehead, the same way he murmurs _I love you_ when they’re curled up in bed and half-asleep.

“Then we’re going to take that plug out of you, and we’re going to try something bigger. We’ll go slow,” he promises. “I’m going to make sure you feel _so_ good. It’s what you deserve, isn’t it?” 

He’s been doing this lately, telling her she _deserves_ all the stunning things he does to her. He makes her repeat it, makes her promise she believes it, makes her insist on it, and then he usually makes her come again.

So it’s instinct to nod, and not surprising at all when she feels his mouth tilt into a smile against her temple. Her shoulders sag as she leans against him, stress seeping out of her at the solid knowledge of what she can expect tonight. 

“Thank you,” she says, her words muffled by his chest. “That helps.”

He sighs, kissing the side of her head. “Good. I missed you, you know.”

“I missed you, too,” she mumbles, reaching out to wrap her arms around his waist. His hands leave her hair as he hugs her close. “But I’m sure Kylo’s been keeping you company. How’s he adjusting?”

It was around the day he handed her a key to his place, about two weeks ago, when she walked out of a staff meeting to find a dozen texts, all from Ben, all going back and forth over whether to adopt a fluffy friend, as his recently obtained therapist had suggested. Of course, she’d called him right away and the conversation quickly went from _but what if I’m not a good pet-owner_ to _maybe we’ll just go to a shelter and see what happens._

And now Kylo, the older cat with an ancient-looking scar over one eye, a shining black coat and an unspecified age, has a cat bed in almost every room, an automated kitty litter, and an owner wrapped around his paw.

“Adjusting a little too well,” Ben snorts. He turns them around, leaning back under the water himself, and adds, “You know he sleeps on my bed? Just started last night. And he won’t eat the regular treats I bought now that you gave him some of those salmon-flavored ones. You’re spoiling him."

Rey grins, watching the water run down his chest. “I’m not the one who bought half a dozen cat beds.”

His cheeks turn pink, but he just shakes his head at her. Grabbing another bottle, he circles with his finger in the air. “Turn around, I’ll put conditioner in.”

The rest of their shower passes just as theirs always do—with more lingering touches, more neck kisses, and more teasing and laughing than any actual washing, though they manage that, too. He massages her shoulders under the guise of washing her back, working out whatever tension she may have been holding on to. 

She steps out before he does, but just as she’s reaching for a plush scarlet towel, he warns, “Don’t bother with pajamas.” 

Briefly, she glances back and then blushes at the view of him still standing under the water, his hair pushed back and rivulets running down his toned stomach and the v of his lower abdomen.

Ben clears his throat, a pleased amusement written all over his face. “Wait for me on the bed. The way I like.”

It’s a funny thing to say when he’s made it clear he likes her _any_ way, but Rey knows better than to laugh. She gives him a smile instead, and a well-behaved nod. Ben adds in an achingly soft voice, “Good girl. I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t start without me.”

~*~

She starts without him.

It’s a game they play. If he isn’t planning to fuck her in his shower, she leaves the shower first, once he’s done getting her clean. He stays in the shower, washing himself and leaving his deep-conditioner in a bit longer, but he tells her _don’t start without me._ And then she promptly starts without him, curious to see what he’ll do when he catches her.

Sometimes he looms over her and watches her get close, and then he’ll tell to her _stop_ just before she comes. Sometimes he tsks and kneels on the bench at the end of his bed, replacing her fingers with his own. Sometimes he stays in the doorway, working his cock in his hand at the view—those are the times when she tries to get off quickly so she can ask him to fuck her mouth.

No matter which route the game goes, he always ends up telling her how good she is, how _sweet_ she is despite her disobeying. Whether he says it while she’s begging to come, or while she’s trying to relax her throat for him, it doesn’t matter—either way, it’s become her favorite of their games.

Tonight, she goes for the top drawer in his dresser. Her eyes stick on the largest plug—the one she’ll take sometime in the next half-hour—but she skips it in favor of another toy. She could put it in herself, but there’s always something better about the way Ben does it, teasing her and praising her in the process. The toy she picks instead is a favorite, one that fits perfectly in her palm and provides such an intense suction over her clit, it still makes her a little nervous to use. 

She has dreams of Ben using it on her, but hasn’t asked. Yet.

She drops onto his bed, a giant one that feels absurd until Ben joins her in it, and she rests on her back, her legs spread and her heels planted on the mattress, leaving her on display for him. It’s an easy position to use the toy in, so she reaches down, pressing a single button.

Ben walks in with perfect—or maybe terrible—timing, just before she can press it to herself. Her hand freezes.

His mouth curls into a wicked grin. “Playing with your toys without me? Didn’t I say _not_ to get started?”

“I—”

“And you barely got anywhere,” he scolds. Walking over to her, he stares down at the toy in her hand, barely an inch from her clit, and he tsks. “Should have known you wouldn’t listen. You _never_ do.” Then, with a hint of curiosity in his voice, “Have you tried the highest setting on that?”

Rey shakes her head, her heart pounding in her throat. “Haven’t gotten past the first three. I think there are eight.”

He hums. For a moment, she thinks she knows where the conversation’s going, but then he gives a little shrug, saying, “I’m glad you like it. It was well-rated.” 

She bites at the inside of her cheek, watching him turn and open the same drawer she did. He takes out exactly what she expects—the largest plug, and a small bottle of lube. His hand pauses with the drawer still open. With another hum, he reaches back in and takes out two matching items that shouldn’t surprise her—soft black cotton wraps he’s used to tie her to the bed.

“I’m leaving your hands free, with a caveat,” he says, turning back to her with the corner of his mouth tilted up. “Since you like that toy so much, we’ll use it. But no reaching down to push it away.”

Rey swallows.

The cotton wraps are soft, long strips someone would wrap around their hands for a boxing workout. They secure only with knots and velcro, and she sits up to watch as he winds the strips around each of her ankles, muttering, “You know, now I can’t get through a workout without picturing you like this, all tied up and ready for me. On display.”

She grins at that, but isn’t foolish enough to tease, not when she’s being tied up.

Once he’s done tugging at each strap that’s secured to opposing corners of his bed, he works his mouth.

“How do they feel? Too tight?”

Rey shakes her head, just once. She wriggles against the ties around her ankles, like she knows he’ll ask her to do, testing her range of movement. 

He’s given her very little.

Ben hums. “If you struggle, if you try to move away once we start, I’ll tie them around your thighs, too. And then I’ll leave the toy right here,” he says lowly, tapping a single finger to her clit—just enough to make her shiver, “And I’ll walk away. Maybe get started on prepping things for dinner. How long do you think you could handle that?”

Her answer is a whine.

“I think I’d start with half an hour,” he warns her. “So be good.”

The rhythmic sound of the toy starts just as he spreads his palm over the middle of her chest, pushing her down onto the bed. She startles when he presses the soft suction of it to her clit, jumping right into it. He doesn’t warn her, doesn’t ease her into it, but really… that’s not a thing he does.

But it’s okay, it’s a low level. Sort of like when he’s kissing her there and not trying to work her up to anything. She could come like this, _has_ come like this, but it takes time. 

Ben sits between her legs, holding the toy on the lowest setting while he caresses her inner thigh with his free hand. “Relax for me,” he says. “Close your eyes, focus on breathing. You’re still a little tense; I can feel it.”

More obedient than she’d like to admit, Rey closes her eyes. It’s almost soothing, the caress of his hand and the soft, rhythmic suction of her clit. Goosebumps rise over her chest, her nipples pebbling while she sinks further and further into the mattress. Ben’s hand slides up her, along the middle of her body, up her abdomen. His skin is warm and a little rough against hers, but he finally flattens his palm between her breasts, just over her heart, like a comfortable weight. Rey sighs in contentment, relaxing under the pressure of his hand.

Her eyes fly open moments later, when he puts the toy at a higher setting.

A _much_ higher setting.

She gasps, tries to curl up off the bed, but he holds her there, his palm a heavy, solid weight now.

“I— Ben, fuck, that— that’s too much, I—” she chokes out, managing, “What setting? _Fuck_ _.”_

His mouth is curled into a grin when she looks at him with wide eyes. “I’m not sure,” he hums. “Maybe a five? I thought it was a shame you were only trying the low levels. I thought it might be nice to test them all. Wouldn’t that be nice, sweetheart?”

The only sound she gets out is garbled and turns into a drawn-out moan. 

“Hmm. Let’s see how six feels,” he suggests, as if she isn’t struggling to move her hips away.

The humming sound of the toy gets a little louder, the suction impossibly intense, and Rey keens, struggling under his hand. She reaches up to wrap her hands around his wrist, trying to push his hand away even though she knows it’s useless to try.

“Breathe,” he orders, just before clicking the toy’s button again. “Just breathe.”

She comes hard with her eyes squeezed shut, her legs shaking and pulling against the wraps. Her breath comes out in a shudder that turns into a cry as he fucking _leaves the toy there,_ not giving her a second to come down.

“Ben,” she gasps, “I can’t, I—”

“You can, because I want you to,” he says firmly.

“But I already—”

“I know you came for me, sweetheart. But I thought you _liked_ this toy,” he says, sounding amused. “I think you need at least one more.” Then, softer, “I know you can handle it. We’re going to try the highest level. Try to let go. You have a safe word if you need it.”

Rey whines, her expression turned to one of pleading desperation.

“I know, I know,” he croons. “But you’re so good, Rey. It’s going to feel so good, I promise.”

And then he presses the button again, and she shatters under him too quickly to beg for mercy. It’s impossible to know where one high stopped and another began, but the second rips through her body, from her cunt out to her toes, her fingertips, arching her middle while Ben keeps his hold on her, his hand sliding to the base of her neck, his fingers curling lightly there.

While she quivers and pants and struggles, he takes the toy from her throbbing clit, giving her time to calm down, time to get her chest to stop heaving. He caresses her throat, calming her while she catches her breath. Once she cracks her eyes open, faintly nodding to him so he knows she’s okay, Ben gets to his feet. She watches through bleary eyes as he turns and takes the lube and plug off the top of his dresser.

She doesn’t really process what’s going to happen next. Her eyes catch on the little framed picture—the only permanent fixture on his dresser—and she notices distantly that it’s new, another picture of them. She tries to narrow her eyes, to place where it’s from, but then he’s standing in front of her again, leaning down over her to catch her mouth in a kiss.

Rey’s a little too out of her own head to kiss back, but it’s okay; Ben works his mouth over hers, interspersing his kissing with words mumbled against her mouth.

_Love you. Perfect, so good. Beautiful, Rey._

She feels almost limp under him. He leaves her with a soft kiss to her cheek, another between her breasts, and then he stands to look down at her, his eyes trailing over her body, landing between her legs.

“We didn’t test the highest level,” he murmurs, like he’s trying to break the news gently. “But first...”

She sees him hold up the plug, and can’t even bring herself to whimper. 

Ben kneels on the bench, dragging the soft silicone plug through her folds. “Mm, you _do_ like that toy, don’t you?” She flinches as he drags the plug up over her clit, shivering at the feeling that washes over her. “Look how soaked you are,” he hums. “Must be so sensitive now.”

The plug dips into her, and Ben swirls it slowly in her cunt, soaking it with her arousal. Slowly, _so_ slowly, he slides it lower, and she hears the cap to the container of lube. She closes her eyes, focusing on relaxing her body to make room for the plug that’s much closer in size to Ben than the first one she took. 

“I think you need a distraction,” he decides, barely pressing the plug against her. With his free hand, he must grab the suction toy, because half a second later, it’s tugging gently at her clit, making her hiccup in surprise. “We’ll leave it on the lowest setting for now,” Ben promises.

It’s the _for now_ that her mind decides to focus in on.

But it’s the lowest setting, and he’s given her at least a minute or two to calm down. She reacts more quickly, her panting starting faster than it would pre-orgasms, but she doesn’t thrash, doesn’t squirm or try to push away. 

Absentmindedly, she feels herself stretching around the plug, she feels Ben easing the tip of it in and out, working more and more lubricant into her, but her focus keeps snapping back to the rhythmic sucking, the low setting dragging things out and building something between her hips.

“Relax a little more,” he whispers. “Want you nice and soft. Push against it for me.”

He’s makes her slippery with an abundance of lubricant, and Rey can’t help but be a little relieved they’re doing this on top of her towel; washing lubricant out of a duvet doesn’t sound like a preferable post-coital activity. She breathes out, trying to release any remaining tension when she does, and he coos, “Good, there we go,” just before easing it the rest of the way in.

Her breath catches when it’s all inside, when she feels it sitting there, so snug and heavy, stretching her to the point of almost being too much.

But Ben’s bigger, she remembers distantly.

“Ask me to turn it up.”

She blinks, propping up on her elbows, a little too warm-cheeked, lightheaded, and overwhelmed to know what he means. But then she sees him holding the dark teal suction toy to her. With everything going on, the gentle suction was starting to feel like background noise.

“Ask me to turn it all the way up,” he orders, his voice tender, his eyes laser-focused on her, his damp hair falling a bit in front of his face.

This time, she _does_ whimper.

Ben’s mouth curls. “Ask me.”

“Turn,” she starts, but her voice wavers. She rasps, “Turn it up,” though she’s maybe a _little_ scared of the highest setting. “Turn it all the way up. Please.”

But then, she whispers a needy, “Are you sure I can handle it?”

Rey feels a little silly the moment she asks, but it’s worth it; Ben’s expression goes soft, and he kisses the side of her bent knee, reassuring, “Of course you can. You can, and you will. And you know what to say if you can’t, don’t you?”

His firm tone, the assuredness in his voice, calms the fluttering in her stomach. She nods, and he kisses along her thigh until she drops back onto the bed and closes her eyes. Within the span of two breaths, he must press the toy’s button and hold it down. It flutters to life, the suction seeming exponentially stronger than the lowest setting. 

The orgasm hits her almost immediately, with Rey clapping a hand over her own mouth, her cry muffled into her hand as she curls forward, Ben no longer stopping her from doing so. She pulls against the wraps holding her legs as it races through her body, rippling and shattering her as it goes, splintering her into pieces. Maybe it’s the setting, maybe it’s the addition of the plug stretching her with a beautiful pleasure-pain, but it feels like everything she knows begins and ends right here, in his bed.

When she manages to get her watery eyes open, Ben’s staring at her, still holding the toy to her clit as she wriggles, her high seeming endless. Her bottom lip wobbles, and she bites it in a way that should be painful and swell-inducing.

“Oh sweetheart, did you come for me?” he asks, knowing damn well he’s still holding the toy to her while she sputters and whines. “So pretty when you come. Must be _so_ overwhelmed.”

“Ben,” she manages to gasp, her words shaky as she twitches, “Please?”

“Please, what?”

“I _can’t._ Can’t— can’t take more.”

He must be feeling generous tonight, because the toy clicks off without argument, dropping to the mattress next to her. Rey stays curled up into a sitting position, her whole chest and her cheeks burning with a flush. She gulps in air. His fingers make quick work of the ties around her ankles, and he leaves them half done—still tied to the bed posts.

It’s a relief to stretch her legs, and with the largest plug still firmly inside her, she’ll take any relief she can.

“I think I want you like this,” Ben says softly, pressing his knee to the bed between her thighs. He leans over her, nudging her back into the bed. “On your back, under me. I want to look at you when we work my cock—” he lowers his head, kissing her stomach, “So deep—” His mouth makes a trail up her, between her breasts, up to her throat, “In your ass. Going to be so full, aren’t you? Been wanting to do this for so long.”

Rey turns her head, catching his mouth in a desperate kiss. Wrapping her legs around him is second nature, and she tugs at his bottom lip, trying to distract herself as she feels his hand sliding between them. 

A moment later, Ben pulls out of the kiss, burying his face into her shoulder with a snorting laugh.

“What?” she asks, frowning. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Ben laughs, shaking his head against her. “I forgot you still had a plug in.”

Her mouth curls, her shoulders jostling with quiet laugher. “Seriously?” She bites her mouth, saying lowly, “I didn’t. That thing is _massive,_ I swear it was a huge jump from the last one.” His grin presses to her shoulder, and she nuzzles into the side of his head, mumbling, “Could you take it out, please?”

“Well, when you ask _so_ nicely…”

He leaves a single lingering kiss to her forehead, backing off the bed. He’s always gentle about easing things in and out of her—that’s half the reason she’s so comfortable with him controlling all of this, the reason she can’t really imagine ever needing to use a safe word. Even when he’s fucking her hard, his hands pressing her front into the mattress while he takes and _takes,_ even when he’s got a toy in both her holes and his cock deep in her throat, there’s a shocking tenderness there somewhere. A soothing caress along her hip, a deep sense of awe in the way he looks at her… there’s always _something._ Some sweet, little thing promising he’ll take care of her.

Ben licks a stripe along her labia, kissing her sensitive clit just enough to make her shiver, like a warning before he leans back and starts to ease the plug out. Normally, her ring of muscle would clench around the bulbous plug, and _normally_ Ben has to remind her to relax.

But now her body is relaxed, so… _pliant._

The plug comes out with little resistance, maybe because she’s so relaxed, or maybe because Ben goes so slowly, whispering how good she is, how much he loves her.

She doesn’t move once it’s out, once she’s empty again and throbbing for what she knows is coming next. There’s the distant sound of a condom wrapper, the sound of the cap on the bottle of lube, but with her eyes closed, it feels a bit like she’s floating on his cloud of a mattress.

“Remember what I said?” Ben asks. His gaze bores into her when she opens her eyes to look at him. “I’ll give you time to get used to me, and you need to push back against me a little, remember? This will be… a bit more than your plugs.”

The conversations they’ve had about this have been long, blush-worthy conversations full of warning and instructions given between neck-kisses, often while they’ve been in his tub with his arms wrapped around her. In a way, it feels like they’ve talked it to death, but maybe the fact that her nerves aren’t spiking right now means the conversations were more helpful than she realized.

At her single, tiny nod, he climbs back over her, positioning himself between her thighs. His hand flattens over her lower abdomen, his thumb caressing her outer labia and then her clit. He stares down at where he’s touching her, and the sweet, disbelieving smile is _still_ there, even though they’ve shared his bed dozens of times now.

He’s reduced her to such a needy mess, the head of his cock pushes in without all the resistance she expects. There’s still some, and the friction is delicious, arching her back as she tries to make more room for him inside herself.

Ben stays rigid, just inside her. He lets out a long, shaking breath, sounding almost like a little laugh at the end. “Stop squirming,” he orders, the tone of his voice rough around the edges. “Push back against me. Just for a second.”

When she does, he slides in maybe half an inch further. 

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs, still sort of petting her clit.

“It’s a lot,” she breathes.

“I know.” Then he pauses, glancing up at her with dark eyes. “We’ll go slow, but you’re going to take all of me, aren’t you? Because you’re good?”

“There’s no room,” she whines, despite the fact that the stretch of her around his cock isn’t exactly what she expected. A stretch, yes, but it’s not the sort of pain she’s heard it would be. It’s a dull sensation, a little throbbing, a little burning, but all of her seems to want to burn, anyway.

“No room?” Ben hums over her. “We’ll see. Keep telling me how it feels, okay?”

He nudges a bit further in, and with her head turned to the side, her fingers pinching at one of her nipples, Rey admits, her voice still laced with a needy whine, “It feels good.”

There’s no way he’s close to being all the way in, but Ben doesn’t push further. He slides his thumb over her clit, getting a moan from her at the stunning sensitivity still pulsing there. His touch is light, swirling over her, and _too much_ doesn’t begin to describe the sensation. It’s more than she realized she could feel, and it only gets more intense when he finally inches further in, his hand leaving her clit to dribble more lube between them.

Everything she might say gets caught in her throat as Ben keeps going, easing more and more of his cock inside her. It’s strange and maybe a little _wrong,_ and somehow, stunning. She puffs and relaxes as much as she can, trying to show him she can handle it, she can be _good,_ and then… then he starts to withdraw and all she can do is shudder and moan.

Ben never pulls all the way out, just rocks inside her, taking her a breathtaking inch at a time. 

It’s only when he drops down over her, propping on his forearms and pressing his chest to hers, that she realizes how flushed his cheeks are, how much tension is bubbling under his skin, how much he’s holding back. He pants against her, his thumb back to sliding up and down over her clit, and it’s such an unexpected relief to know how affected he is, too. 

Rey wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to kiss. Her heels press into his back, urging him, promising it’s okay, _she’s_ okay.

His pace stays slow, his thrusts shallow, his words sweet and whispered into her ear, “Better than good, Rey. Incredible, perfect, love you, wanna’ spoil you and give you—” He groans, his hips stilling when she clenches around him. She closes her eyes, relaxing again with a sigh, and he continues, “Give you _everything.”_

She tangles her fingers in his damp hair, glad he’s left it loose and not pulled it back. She rarely requests things in bed—he tends to give and give until she can’t think, let alone _ask,_ but she asks, “Can I have your fingers, in me?” Her voice wavers, but she begs just the way he likes, “Please? I want to be full everywhere.”

Ben groans again, not even making her beg more before he lifts off her, sitting back on his feet. He readjusts them carefully without pulling out of her, so she ends up sort of in his lap and so _very_ much at his mercy. Then suddenly, two of his fingers push inside her cunt.

The sound that flies out of her mouth is more of a squeal than anything else. Her back arches, and Ben crooks his fingers, fucking her there roughly, all gentleness apparently saved for her ass.

“What a mess,” he says, his voice a rough mix of awe and scolding. “You’re just dripping, all for me. Need something to fill you up here, hm?”

Lewd wet noises come from her center as he scissors his fingers inside her, crooking them over and over again at the spot that always makes her pant. Just when she’s fisting her hands in the blanket under her, when she’s making nonsensical, whimpering sounds, Ben starts to thrust with his hips. It’s still slow, but she’s just… _impaled_ on his cock and his fingers. Her thighs shake and what might have been her begging for release—or maybe mercy—only comes out as a long whine.

His thrusts speed up, and it’s enough to make her chest heave, enough to make her whole body throb and turn into a mess, more sensation that person, more needy than anything else.

“B-Ben,” she stammers, reaching up for him, for what she really doesn’t know. “I—”

“Touch yourself,” he interrupts, “Want you to play with your clit.” Then he glances at her expression, at the way she’s biting her bottom lip, and he soothes, “I know, I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot, isn’t it?” At her nod, her wide, watering eyes, he crooks his fingers again, sending a jolt through the bundle of raw nerves she’s become. “Fingers on your clit, Rey. Don’t make me say it twice. Don’t you want to come for me?”

She can’t pull together a reply, can’t even nod again. The action screams against her instincts, her whole body insisting she won’t be able to handle what’s building, but she reaches down and swirls her fingers over the swollen nub again and again.

Ben murmurs praise, such sweet words she focuses all of herself on, because those words aren’t terrifying and the pressure in her body _is._ With no regard for her sanity, he fingers her cunt with filthy wet noises and his cock _makes_ room inside her no matter how impossible it seems, no matter how she moans and shakes. 

_Shatters_ isn’t even the right word. Her mouth falls open in a wordless cry, her eyes squeezing shut as though she can somehow hide from the wave that forces through her body, but she can’t. She can’t go anywhere, can’t stop it, and certainly can’t handle it, not without her abs clenching, her jaw going rigid, her knuckles going white with how she grabs at the blanket under her.

She can’t even pull away, not with how he’s buried in her and holding her in place.

Blood rushes in her ears, her heart pounds somewhere between her legs, and in the distance, Rey thinks she hears Ben shudder, thinks she feels him pulse inside her the way he does when he comes.

Slowly, everything stops. There’s a strange surreal feeling of nothingness, and it takes a moment before things start coming back. The feeling of his hand, his fingers grazing over her belly, is the first thing she feels. The murmur of her name, sounding so tender on his lips, in next.

“Rey?” he repeats. “I’m going to pull out, okay?”

Her nod is groggy, her head heavy even as it rests on the mattress. Ben withdraws slowly, and the feeling is distant, a pressure that disappears over the course of half a minute, like an exhale.

It feels like it takes an hour before she cracks her eyes open, before she eases up into a sitting position. 

When she finally does, she gives him a sleepy grin.

“Everything okay?” he asks softly, coming around to the side of the bed to cup her face in one hand. “Was that—”

“Good,” Rey interrupts, her whole body still buzzing with an overwhelming feeling. She nuzzles into his hand, letting him wipe the moisture from under her eyes. The words get a bit choked up in her throat, but she manages, “That was really good, Ben.”

A slow smile grows across his lips. “Isn’t that my line?”

She pauses, then bursts into laughter, a giddy, drunk happiness rising in her chest.

~*~

Her limbs are sluggish, her body boneless as she curls up on his couch where he put her. Ben’s covered her up with the cozy fleece blanket that was slung over one of his chairs, and he left her with a kiss and the TV remote, promising to be back quickly after making them something to eat. 

The Great British Bake Off is her latest comfort show. It’s inexplicably happy for a competitive bake off, and all the contestants seem encouraging and not jealous of their competition’s success. It’s a strangely wholesome show to watch after what she and Ben just did, and Rey laughs a little at the thought. 

She sighs, snuggling under the soft blanket. Ben dressed her in one of his long-sleeved shirts and sweatpants that are laughably loose, along with the black-cat slippers he bought her the same week he brought home Kylo. The little cat sits at the opposite end of the couch, purring in contentment while she watches Mary wish the contestants luck with her latest technical challenge, and… it’s hard to believe life could be this perfect.

It’s all so _cozy._

“Ah, no. I don’t think so,” Ben laughs, nudging Kylo from his claimed spot. “Come on, little guy. This is my seat.”

Rey blinks lazily over at him. “He’s a cat. This whole _place_ is his now.” 

“It does seem that way sometimes,” he hums. He ushers the cat off the couch and sits next to her, gesturing for her to come close. “Dinner’s in the oven—I made a quiche, but I thought you might want a snack while it’s cooking.” 

The word _snack_ catches her attention, and that’s when she realizes she’s ravenous. As per their routine, Rey sits up, scoots over and settles down with her head in his lap, face up. The way he smiles down at her is so sweet, so soft. He cups the side of her face, putting the bowl of whatever snack he’s prepared on the arm of his couch.

“Apple slices okay?”

“Perfect,” she sighs.

He feeds her slowly, sometimes pausing to brush his thumb along her bottom lip. The show plays on, but drifts into the background as she stares up at him. The apple is tart, something like a Granny Smith, and juicy, just the way she likes.

And that really sums up all of it. Everything, from the taste of the apple to the show, from the soft blanket wrapped around her, to the warmth and love emanating from the man whose lap she’s in—it’s all _just_ the way she likes.

“You like this show?” Ben asks, gesturing to the tv.

Rey hums. “I wish I could bake. Like, something that isn’t from a box.”

“Why don’t you try it?”

She pauses. It’s a good question, but hobbies have never really been her thing. Sure, she loves her colored pencils and the coloring books of landscapes and animals and the _secret library_ themed one she recently got, but aside from that, hobbies have always felt too indulgent. 

It would cost _money,_ and not a little, to invest in the sort of tools and ingredients she might need to learn that sort of baking.

Ben’s going to hate that answer.

“Do you know, a kitchenaid mixer costs _hundreds_ of dollars?” she asks anyway. “I’ve heard sometimes you can get them secondhand, but even then they’re costly. And for what?” she shrugs. “Maybe I’d learn to make things, but then they’d be eaten and they’d be gone. It’s a lot of time and money to invest in something that doesn’t… I don’t know, make you more money? It’s not like I want to open a bakery someday, so it’d just be for us, for friends and family.”

It quickly becomes clear that he _does_ hate the answer, a frown marring his face. “You think a hobby has to produce something? Or, something more useful than baked goods?” He tilts his head. “I think hobbies are just a way to spend your time that makes you happy.”

And then, while he slides his thumb across her cheek, he asks, “Would learning to bake make you happy? Yes or no.”

Stifling the urge to reiterate that it’s expensive and indulgent, Rey sighs. “Yes.”

“Good,” he laughs. “Was that _so_ difficult?”

Rey replies only with an eye roll.

He smiles down at her, hesitating only for a moment before mumbling, “So, how was it?”

“Earlier? Better than I expected,” she admits, pausing to nibble at the apple slice he’s offering. “I think I had myself convinced I’d need to safe-word, but I guess working up to it with the plugs helped more than I realized.”

He lets out a long breath, his expression filling with relief. A small grin plays at the corner of his mouth. “I told you they’d help. Is it something you’d want to do again, or is it going in the _hard limits_ category?”

“I’m pretty tired now, but—”

Ben interrupts with a laugh. “I meant in the future.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks burn, but she laughs, too. “Right. Then, yes.”

He soothes fingers along her jaw, tracing over her freckles and then around her mouth. “Can I get you anything? Do you need anything? How are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” she promises with a smile. “Really.”

His eyes narrow, like he’s not sure he believes her. “Are you sure? I can brush your hair, or anything, whatever you need. I hope by now you know I like taking care of you.”

“I just need you,” she whispers.

There’s a softness in his eyes. An overwhelming level of love she’s still not used to seeing.

“You’ve got me, Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)


	8. Chapter 8

The college campus is deserted—not unusual for an early morning on a weekend—when Ben walks to Rey’s apartment.

He knows it might be a mistake. Part of him thinks he was imagining the bright hopefulness in her eyes after they... He’s projecting, _surely._ The hopefulness wasn’t really there. The relief in her expression was just his, and he only saw it reflected because he was desperate to. 

He arrives at her apartment before he has the time to talk himself out of it.

The building’s stone façade is ancient, the sidewalk is crumbling, and the lock on the front door is long-broken. There’s a twinge in his gut at the thought of her living here, but he’s learned his lesson with Rey. His apartment has two bedrooms, but she wouldn’t take the second because she’d never believe it was doing him a favor.

That’s the catch. Nothing with Rey is easy; you can’t just pay for her dinner or buy her a book she needs, even when you wouldn’t notice the difference in your bank account. For Ben, the cost of a textbook is barely a budgeting error, the way some people shrug it off when they’re a dollar or two off in their checkbooks at the end of the month. And yet, spending the amount on Rey—even for something she needs—or walking her home after work without an excuse, is enough to get snapped at for _daring_ to suggest she can’t take care of herself. 

Whatever a person does for her has to be mutually beneficial, somehow. So he’s learned to lie to her. It isn’t a good thing. It never _feels_ good, but there’s an undeniable relief in knowing she won’t walk home alone at 2 AM. In knowing that, if he “accidentally” orders an extra textbook for one of their shared classes and gives it to her, she’ll be able to afford groceries and won’t be late on her rent.

Ben drops to sit on the creaking, worn wooden bench in front of her building with a long sigh. He stares up at the third floor. At the window he knows she could be looking out of, assuming she’s not still sleeping off all the drinks from last night’s party. His own head is still fuzzy, his whole body frayed and on-edge, but it has nothing to do with the rum or whatever concoction Poe made him later in the night.

She _kissed_ him.

This is the first moment he’s let himself even think the words. The first peaceful bit of time when he’s given himself a minute to process. He leans forward, perching his elbows on his dark jean-covered knees, and gulps in air. It feels like a dream. 

It wasn’t just a kiss, he realizes. It was a dam breaking. A sudden, perfect bit of _everything_ all shoved into seven minutes in a closet with his best friend, and maybe she’s more than a best friend. Maybe he loves her. Maybe he’s loved her since that day they were having a Star Trek marathon—one of their traditions—and he heard her say _I’m never alone when I’m with you,_ and realized he finally had the words to describe why it hurts to not be near her.

He lets out a long breath, sitting on that damned dilapidated bench, and he wonders if there’s any chance, any _tiny_ little chance she’s loved him this whole time, too. Maybe she has, maybe she just didn’t dare to admit it during the game last night, maybe— 

“Uh, Ben?”

His head snaps up.

And there she is, clad in thick sweatpants and a loose crimson sweater he’s sure was once his. Her hair is in a row of buns, and she’s fumbling with Rose’s old iPod and headphones. 

“I was just heading out for a jog,” Rey frowns, gesturing down the sidewalk. She tilts her head at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed already from the chill. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

He almost wants to laugh, because… _no._ No, nothing’s okay, nothing will _ever_ be okay, not when the world feels like it’s starting and ending all at the same time.

“Ben?” she prods, sounding worried. She takes a seat next to him, her hand landing on his shoulder. “You’re not still drunk, right? I told Poe he was putting too much in. Those drinks were lethal. Thank god I only had one, that was _plenty._ ”

Finally, a smile curls at his mouth. “No, I’m not drunk.”

He looks over at her in a daze, too slow to say what he wanted to before she blurts, “We should talk. About last night.”

“Oh?” he asks in a breath. “We should?”

Rey leans back on the bench, an uneasy expression on her face, and that’s when his heart starts to sink. “Yeah,” she says softly. “We should. After the seven minutes thing, and then that _never have I ever_ game… ”

Suddenly, the air is frigid on his skin. 

She grimaces out at the building in front of them. It hits him— _truly_ hits him—that he’s going to have to get over her. 

“It won’t make things weird, right?”

He is, isn’t he? He’s going to have to figure out a way to stop being in love with his best friend. Just the thought of there ever being a day he doesn’t love her turns his stomach.

Ben looks over at her and clears his throat, trying and failing to sound anything but wrecked. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.

How does a person move on? How is he supposed to feel anything else but a choking, overwhelming love when he looks at her?

It feels like he’s going to be sick.

“It um… It would probably only be weird if we did it again, right?” Rey mutters. She folds her arms over her chest, looking anywhere but at him, and he gets the distinct impression she doesn’t want to be around him. “We had a few drinks, and it’s totally normal to kiss your friends, right? I mean, I’ve kissed Poe and Finn and _definitely_ Rose, and that was all normal, so I don’t think we have to feel weird about it.”

He can’t keep listening, can’t listen to her explain away the way she kissed him. Can’t keep hearing the doubt in her voice. It wasn’t like kissing a friend after a few drinks. There’s a word for what they are, a word that screams what a perfect match they are, a word that’s on the tip of his tongue, and it isn’t _friends._ But it’s starting to rain as they sit on the bench, and the right word isn’t coming out, not even as he stares over at her wide and confused expression while he silently begs himself to say something.

The words never come out, not even as he feels his heart crack.

“So anyway… what are you doing here?” she asks with a grimace, “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Ben stands, suddenly realizing he can’t be here, can’t be around her. Not right now. Maybe not for a while, not with a sharpness in his chest and the possibly permanent ache that’s already set in. His words are tight, careful. “Just came here to say the same thing. I didn’t want things to be weird. But I have to go, I forgot I told Poe I’d study with him today.”

Rey knows he’s lying. She stares at him like she’s being eaten up inside, too.

“Bye, Rey,” he manages.

She stares after him for a while, likes she’s trying to figure out what changed, what went wrong. He backs away and gives a little wave, turning to leave.

In a defeated voice, he hears her murmur back, “Goodbye, Ben.”

And it strikes him, when he’s three blocks away, that they never say goodbye. It’s always _See you later,_ or maybe _have a good night, get some sleep_ on the nights he walks her home late.

It’s never _goodbye._

That’s when the pieces of his heart shatter, and the pieces never really come back together. Not all the way.

So many mornings after that one pass without Rey. Not that he usually saw her in the mornings, but there were at least a few days a week they’d meet up for coffee. 

They don’t, now. It starts with Ben trying to get some distance, trying to put himself back together. He dives into his internship, secures a permanent position for after graduation, even starts to date, though it’s not easy. He stops going home; his parents will only ask about Rey with that tone that suggests something. Either that, or they’ll ask why he’s been so off. 

Rey pulls away, too. The _coffee, 9:15?_ texts slow and then stop. After their shared class, she always has somewhere to rush off to. She doesn’t frequent Poe and Finn’s parties the way she would normally, and the parties start to wane after graduation, anyway. It hurts, but it makes moving on—or _trying_ to move on—a little easier.

Thousands more mornings pass, and the world moves around him while he stands still. At some point his on-campus apartment becomes a condo with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, his job becomes an obsession, his friend from work becomes his girlfriend. Some of those mornings start to begin in his office, a corner office with a view and a never-ending list of obligations. More _things_ appear in his life, but they’re just things. A new car, a promotion and then another, a few extra zeroes in his bank account. A family ring, hesitantly given to him by his mother, who can’t help but constantly ask if he’s _sure_ he’s okay. He isn’t, but Ben barely notices that. 

And while some things appear, other things disappear.

Finn. Rose. Poe. Friend dinners. Free time. Hobbies. He puts them all in a box with that ring and his heart, the pieces of his old life.

Eventually, too many mornings start with Ben waking up in his office. Too many of them start with a deep sense of hopelessness. Too many of them are bleak. Too many of them are the same day, strung out into an endless, unchanging procession.

It’s hard to know what really puts an end to it. 

Maybe it’s when he finally breaks during a staff meeting with Snoke, when he snaps and slams his hand down on a table after the man claims he isn’t dedicated enough, a _horrible_ claim, because by now Ben’s dedicated everything of himself to First Order, even if he barely realizes it. Maybe it’s when he slaps a resignation letter onto Snoke’s desk and tells the man what a wretched monster he is. Maybe it’s when Phas hears about all of it and starts reconsidering their future together.

Maybe it’s when he storms out of the building before security can escort him out and calls up his father asking about a job, only to realize he can’t remember the last time he went home.

Whatever the last straw is, everything falls apart in the span of two or three days.

The night he sits on his couch, recently single and _very_ unemployed (unless you count his father agreeing to give him some hours at the garage), and spills the whole story, admits how horribly off-track his life has gotten, Ben’s overwhelmed to the point of tears. They aren’t bad tears. They’re the kind of tears that come when you finally feel like you have control of your life again, even if you’re stuck at the bottom of a dark pit. There’s a weightlessness, an undefinable _good_ that bubbles in his chest despite the disappointment that’s there, too.

“You’re going to be okay, you know,” Rey whispers, hugging him tightly.

He holds her close, curls around her, and that’s when he feels it. That unfamiliar, incredible light he hasn’t felt in years.

_Hope._

* * *

The October air is freezing when they arrive together on Han and Leia’s front porch. Rey tugs her unzipped thick purple fleece further around her—a gift from Ben after he saw her ancient (but perfectly usable!) fall jacket and decided she needed an upgrade. She shivers as she rocks back and forth on her feet. Beside her, holding her packaged-up cake, Ben frowns, knocking on the door again.

He glances to her. “Sorry. Normally, I’d go right in. They must have forgotten to unlock it.”

Rey gives a little shrug, trying to seem unbothered. The truth is, it’s silly that she’s so nervous. She’s met Han and Leia _plenty_ of times. Han was famous among their friend group, known as the dad with the best grilling skills and the best beer hidden away in a mini-fridge in his garage, and Leia was always ready to make everyone feel as at-home and well-fed as possible.

So her nerves are _ridiculous_ and she knows it, but she keeps running through a sequence of worries starting at _what if they never liked me much_ , going all the way to _what if my bake is terrible?_

For about a month, and thanks to Ben’s encouragement, she’s been practicing bakes. She’s stuck with the basics—simple breads (many of which never proved well), cookies (she and Ben have split at _least_ one accidentally cookie-sheet-sized cookie), and a single cake, which actually went well, somehow. Now, she can’t figure out why she didn’t stick to something easy, something _classic._ A pumpkin pie. Chocolate chip cookies. Brownies.

Why the _fuck_ did she decide to make a sticky mousse cake? What if it’s horrible, what if it’s under-baked? Or worse, _over-baked?_ What if it’s a brick and Leia just gives her a disappointed look, and— 

Gently, Ben nudges her with an elbow and murmurs, “Transparency, sweetheart.”

“I’m freaking out about that cake, _and_ your parents,” she blurts, spilling the truth like it’s second nature. “When I’ve been around them before, I was always just your friend, so it didn’t matter much if they liked me. But now it’s different, and that’s hard enough, so why didn’t I just make something I’ve made before? What happens if I cut that cake and it’s a mess inside? I want them to like me.”

He nods like he understands, a little relief relaxing his worried face, but then he _laughs._

“They love you,” he promises, shaking his head at her. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re already part of the family.”

And that’s it, that’s really the crux of it. 

_Family._

“You could have brought cookie-shaped bricks, and they’d still love you,” he adds. “But for what it’s worth, this cake looks amazing. You did a _great_ job.” His expression softens, the way it does when he comes into the kitchen for something and sees her working on a new recipe, carefully measuring out each new ingredient. “I’m proud of you.”

She sniffs, smiling back at him just as the door finally swings open.

“Why on earth are you waiting out here?” Leia laughs. “Oh, you two must be freezing! Come in, come in! I’m so sorry, I thought the door was open.”

The woman wraps her in a tight, unexpected hug, even before greeting her own son. “We’re so glad you’re here, Rey,” she sighs. “So glad my son finally brought you for dinner—we’ve been pestering him about it since he told us you were dating. He’s probably sick of me texting, asking when I get to see you!”

The moment they get into the kitchen and set everything down on the counter, Han’s there to welcome her, too—he messes up his son’s hair and gives her a warm hug, just the sort she’d expect from a dad.

Neither of them let go first, and that, more than anything, is what warms her heart.

The evening is a whirlwind, full of food and subtle _We always knew you two would end up together_ comments. The meal is a stunning one—far too much for four people. Rey struggles to wrap her mind around them cooking such a feast and having every single plate come out perfectly. There’s a roast, half a dozen sides, bread rolls, even what seems to be hand-whipped butter.

Rey sits back in her chair, partly smiling at the way Ben fills a plate for her, and partly sinking into dread at the thought of how her little cake pales in comparison to any of what’s in front of her. She gnaws at the inside of her cheek, just as Ben glances over at her. He seems to spot her nerves right away, with just a glance.

Han and Leia chatter on about how nice it is to have Ben working at the garage, but she can see the concern on her boyfriend’s face. During the next break in conversation, she speaks up, saying awkwardly, “I’m sorry we didn’t bring more. The dessert I made is _tiny_ , and you must have been cooking for hours, I—”

Leia interrupts with a hearty laugh. Even Han’s got a grin curling at his mouth. “Mm, _hours,_ ” Leia emphasizes. “It took me a very long time to unpack all the takeout boxes, dear.”

Rey blinks. “Takeout boxes?”

“Unless it’s on a grill, my parents don’t cook much,” Ben explains quietly, leaning over. He kisses her cheek, whispering into her ear, “You have nothing to worry about.”

Before she can really collect her thoughts and react, Leia asks, sounding surprised, “You _baked_ that cake? I assumed you picked that up from a bakery. It looks lovely.”

Her cheeks flush at the praise from someone other than Ben. She looks over at the man next to her, and he squeezes her thigh, urging her on with a smile wrinkling around his eyes. 

“I did,” she nods, looking over the table to Leia. She bites her lip, just for a moment, but then she relaxes in her chair. She focuses on the hand on her thigh, rubbing soothingly just at the edge of her skirt. “I’ve been learning how to bake,” she admits. “I haven’t tried this recipe yet, though. It’s a sticky mousse cake, and I made a whipped cream to top it off with.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Leia reassures her. “I had no idea you’d made it yourself.”

With a little laugh, and a growing sense of comfort, Rey says, “I made about twice the amount of whipped cream I meant to, so I’ve got a big bowl of it left at home, but… I think it came out okay.”

Ben leans over again, pressing another kiss to her temple. “I’m sure it did.”

The rest of dinner passes more easily. Any anxiety or worry ends at the smiles she sees, at the laughter she hears, or at the place where Ben’s fingers smooth over her thigh under the table. Once they’re all full and groaning about how they could eat more of the soon-to-be leftovers, Leia excuses herself to get the dessert, and Han follows her to get them another bottle of wine.

It leaves her alone with Ben. He reaches over and tucks some hair behind one ear where it must have fallen out of her braid. 

“So,” he murmurs, “I was wondering why you were so quiet. Feeling better now?”

_“Much.”_

What he says next is softer, said as though he doesn’t want to be overheard. “Then I have another rule for you.”

Her cheeks flush again. They haven’t had a new rule in a while. The existing ones are all written down and taped up on the back of his bedroom door, along with one of her colored landscapes.

“I want you to stop downplaying your accomplishments.”

“Ben, it’s just a _cake_ , it—”

“It isn’t, though,” he argues gently. “I watched you bake it. I watched you pick the ingredients—remember how long we were at the store while you were picking just the right type of coffee to use? I watched you measure it all out, watched how careful you were with every instruction. It isn’t a cake. It’s time and effort and love, and I want you to stop acting like it isn’t.”

He pauses, glancing toward the doorway his parents are likely to walk through, and then continues, “You do this with work, too. I took you to dinner to celebrate your promotion, and you spent twenty minutes explaining it away, saying it was only because you’ve worked there so long and nobody was very interested in stepping up, and—”

Rey frowns, interrupting, “But that’s true.”

“It’s also true that you’re _amazing_ at your job,” Ben points out. “You’re talented, and you work hard. You sell yourself short whenever you attribute an accomplishment to anything but your talent and your own effort, and it would make me very happy if you tried to stop doing that.”

She pauses at his words, letting them rattle around in her head. Before she can reply or argue, Leia pops back in, carrying the little cake on a beautiful glass platter. Han follows right in behind her with a bottle of wine and four small plates.

“You said this is a mousse cake?” Leia asks, her smile warm as she places it in the middle of the table, moving a half-bowl of mashed potatoes. “It smells incredible.”

Rey nods, her eyes landing on the circle of baked chocolate mousse cake topped with homemade whipped cream and chocolate-covered coffee beans. Half a dozen things she could say come to mind—it’s smaller than intended, the sides are a little messy, she’s not convinced she used the right coffee. The whipped cream may not have had long enough to chill, and...

“Thank you, Leia,” she says instead. 

Ben squeezes her thigh and kisses her temple again, murmuring, “Good job.”

An hour later, when they’re in the privacy of his car, he cups her face and kisses her. He tastes of coffee and chocolate, and kisses her again and again, not even giving her the time to get her seatbelt on.

His smile is wide when he rests his forehead to hers, catching his breath.

“Do you have plans for the extra whipped cream you mentioned?”

Rey shakes her head, and he catches her mouth again. His fingers reach along her jaw, toward her neck, and he only pulls away to mumble, “Good.”

“I could make a pie to put it on, or—”

“No.”

He presses his lips to hers, licking into her before she can ask _why_ she won’t be using it for a pie, but Ben kisses her so thoroughly, she can’t bring herself to care about getting an answer.

Unprompted, Ben explains between kisses, “I’m going to lick it off you.”

By the end of the night, when his tongue flicks over her nipple, he murmurs, “This tastes _so_ good, sweetheart.” He works kisses up her neck and along her jaw, then dips his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste the cream she whipped hours earlier. She sighs into him, and against her mouth, he mumbles, “Best thing you’ve made so far.”

It’s hard not to believe him.

* * *

Ben wakes up to see his bag packed and sitting on his dresser, and he can’t help but think this vacation is a terrible mistake. 

That still doesn’t stop him from showering, getting dressed, and grabbing his bag. It doesn’t stop him from picking up Rey’s coffee order—which somehow hasn’t changed—along with his. He hesitates when the barista asks what he wants, part of him instinctively ready to order his usual _coffee, black._

“Hot caramel macchiato,” he says instead, a small smile growing at the old, but familiar indulgence.

It’s slow, seems like it’ll take forever, but his life is inching closer to being back on track, healing as weeks pass.

The world is a little brighter as he sips at the to-go cup, leaning against his car while he waits for her to get outside. He hums something, a song he hasn’t heard in forever, and in the strangest way, it feels like he’s finally seeing colors again. Everything is sweeter. Everything is vibrant, from the grass around her apartment building to the sound of the birds.

Then Rey walks out the front door.

She spots him quickly, her eggplant-purple bag slung over one shoulder. The smile that splits across her face is a better greeting than he’s ever deserved.

Ben has to grip the coffee cup in his hand just so he won’t drop it. She stands there on her front step for a moment with the sweetest grin, her hair in slight waves to her shoulders, her freckles sprinkled across her nose. She bounds over to him as though she’s already had coffee, and her smile is so bright and beautiful, it takes all his effort to not kiss her.

That’s when he realizes something; every bit of effort that ever went into not being in love with her was just undone with that smile.

And there it is, the reason he never should have agreed to this vacation.

“Hey, Ben,” she greets, her tone cheerful. “Ready to go? I spent all afternoon yesterday putting together a playlist for us.”

She’s so beautiful it makes his chest ache.

There are a million wrong things he could sputter out—anything from _I can’t do this_ to _I love you,_ but miraculously, what comes out is, “I got you coffee.”

She pauses, only briefly. “Oh. You… remembered my order?”

“Of course I did."

The look she gives him is hesitant and appreciative, an unasked question clouding her expression, but all she does is give him another smile before she takes it and gets in the car.

In the quiet moments of their drive, Ben tries to convince himself that this is fine. It’s fine. It really is. Reconnecting with an old friend he hasn’t seen much lately is never a bad thing, and he’s been suppressing feelings for her for almost a decade now. What’s one more week? 

Everything really is fine, Ben tells himself. And it is, it’s good—they share laughs, they tease and mock and catch up. He tells himself it’s fine all the way to the resort, the whole time they’re checking in and riding an elevator, and just when his _this is fine_ mantra starts to feel real, the lock to their room clicks, and he gets a look at where they’ll be for the week.

A million things run through his mind. Why is there only one bed? Why is there a tub in the middle of the room, and why the fuck is it heart-shaped? Why are there rose petals, and— _oh._

The worst part is, in another context, in another life, sharing a room like this with Rey would be a dream come true. But right now? It’s too much, it’s too hard, it’s feels impossible. He doesn’t know how to handle this could-have-been.

Drinking helps, and leaving the room that seems to beg them to fuck on every possible surface turns out to be a great idea, too.

An hour in, Ben realizes it’s too fucking easy to be around her, it’s too easy to make her smile, too easy to feel happy and _right_ in her company. Eventually, he gets lost in their conversation, urging her to talk about her latest hookup because, frankly, it hurts and that’s so much easier.

But then their conversation takes a massive fucking turn, sometime around when Rey murmurs, “I wanted to be taken care of. Not all the time, but sometimes.”

She looks up at him with those sweet hazel eyes, and Ben’s going to hyperventilate any minute now.

Replying is… maybe more than he’s capable of, so he only gestures for her to explain. She does, with her cheeks flushing from shyness or maybe embarrassment, and all he wants to do is tell her she’s so fucking good for being honest about what she wants.

His breathing stutters somewhere around the phrase _I want to feel little, like I’m not in control._ By the time she gets to _Fewer ropes and ball-gags, more care-taking,_ Ben already knows he’s fucked. He’s known it for a long time, but how’s he supposed to not offer? Sure, maybe the fruity concoction she ordered for him is making this easier, but maybe she’d be up for it. 

He could offer, but… but could he handle that? Some little voice in the back of his mind—the only remaining shred of logic—prods and asks if he can handle this, handle being with her, and not actually _be_ with her.

Seven days of Rey— _all_ of Rey—could ruin him.

“Someone who focuses on making sure I’m happy and relaxed, someone who only sets rules for my benefit, with positive reinforcement?” she asks, almost like she isn’t sure how to put words to it. Like this is the first time she’s really explained this to someone. “Maybe rewards or telling me I’m— telling me I’m—”

But seven days in a suite is seven days, and he’d die just for another seven minutes in a closet.

“Good?” he interrupts in a breathless murmur, desperately hoping he’s guessed right. Because Rey is _so_ fucking good and she deserves to hear it, and he wants to be the one to tell her. “You like being told you’re good?” he whispers. “Is that it?”

She covers her face with her hands, and it might be the most adorable thing he’s seen.

His urge to offer himself up only gets more intense when he hears she hasn’t tried it before, when he hears that some asshole made her feel ashamed about what she wants. There’s a little spike of fury, quelled the moment he sees her soft expression and hears her admittance of being too nervous to seek out someone who _could_ fulfill her needs.

Maybe someday they’ll look back at this awkwardly, or maybe someday they won’t be friends anymore because of this.

But Ben can’t help but think of the woman he knew years ago, the one who wouldn’t even take a textbook from a wealthy friend who wouldn’t flinch at the cost. The woman who refused any form of help because she was terrified to rely on anyone. Terrified to _trust_ anyone.

“Do you trust me enough?” he ends up asking, barely daring to give it more volume than a whisper. “Would you like it if I took care of you? Maybe while we’re here?” He’s quick to add, “If you want to explore it, better to do so with someone you trust, right?”

At first he thinks she’ll say no. He gives her an out, suggests she sleep on it, but…

“Yes,” she blurts, enthusiastic and _perfect._ “Yes, I want to.”

Ben freezes. It seems ridiculous, but he hadn’t really considered that she’d say _yes._ There was a non-zero chance of it, but that she’d be so quick to agree was never a possibility that had crossed his mind. Maybe he just hadn’t dared to hope.

“You’ll really let me take care of you?” he asks, more out of disbelief than anything. “You’re really okay with this?”

He steps in closer to hold her chin, touching her jaw with his fingertips. He could lean in so easily, could kiss her.

“Yes,” she nods. And then she tacks on, “ _Please,”_ and if he wasn’t sure before, now he knows this was a mistake. Rey’s been ruining him since before they ever even touched, long before they ever kissed. The _yes, please_ destroys him, guts him where he stands and makes the dull ache in his chest burst into a heart-shredding feeling he’ll never get over. 

What the fuck is he going to be left with after a week of her?

The _seven days_ ricochets through his chest, promising to re-break his heart, but it’s the most _right_ thing he’s ever done when he murmurs, “Good. So good.”

* * *

Somehow, it takes months of them dating for Rey to see how much she’s changed.

It’s late December, just before Holdo Engineering closes up for the holidays—a time when few people accomplish any real work. During her second helping of homemade and hand-decorated gingerbread cookies Ben “helped” (taste-tested) her with the night before, Rey pauses. She looks around at the party, almost bewildered, for one simple reason; she’s never attended this party before. Usually she’s busy at her desk, rushing to complete things while she hears the distant music and laughter of a work party.

She’s always wished she could, always promised she’d _be there in another hour,_ but every year the outcome was inevitable. She’d stay at her desk answering emails or preparing presentations, scheduling meetings and making project-plans for early January. Not once did she let herself indulge in socializing, the games, the Yankee-swap present games, or even the pot luck. 

But this year, everything is different.

Rey pops the rest of the spicy-sweet cookie in her mouth and folds her arms over her chest, as if she can contain the joy that’s bursting from it if she tries hard enough. She leans back against the wall of the bustling conference room, decorated with garish tinsel and silvery _Happy Holidays_ signs, and she grins at it all.

She texts Ben, _The cookies I made for this party were a hit! They came out so well._

 _That’s great,_ he’s quick to reply, _am I still picking you up early? 2?_

Somehow, she’d forgotten she’d agreed to take advantage of Holdo’s office-wide offer to leave early after the party. It’s never been something she’d considered, always too wrapped up with work and too anxious to step away and put her enjoyment first. But things have changed—this year, she took a whole two weeks off around the holidays. Maybe it’s a little change, too little to cause so much joy, but it does.

There are tears springing up in her eyes when she texts back, _Yes, please._

 _Good,_ he texts back. _I’m not waiting five more days for my present._

Rey flushes at the thought of what she’s agreed to—being tied up like a present, blindfolded and left on his bed for as long as he wants, or until she uses a safe word. She already knows it’ll involve a plug and a sort of nerve-wracking amount of overstimulation, but she doesn’t know what else he has planned. That’s the exciting part.

She glances around to make sure nobody’s paying her attention before she replies. 

_I know better than to make you wait. If you’re open to requests, could you see how many fingers fit? I want to take more, if I can._

His texts come in a little disjointed, and one right after the other.

_Yes_

_Of course_

_Fuck_

_I could fit more by now if I didn’t go so easy on you_

_You’re so good, Rey_

_I’m proud of you for asking_

She sighs, rereading those words a dozen times, before typing, _Hey, I love you._

 _I love you, too,_ he texts back. _Can I pick you up now?_

With a laugh, she replies, _No, sorry. 2 pm. I’m enjoying the party._

Ben sends back a quick, _Ok, new rule. No more texting me like than unless I can pick you up right away. That’s torture. I’m not going to get anything else done today._

A wide grin splits across her face. She sends a quick apology and then tucks her phone back in her pocket, looking out at the busy room. She sighs, letting her shoulders sag.

And sure, there’s a to-do list sitting beside her keyboard with at least five things that should be worked on, and maybe she still needs to pack up her little collection of desk plants so they don’t die in the next two weeks. Maybe she’ll have a lot to do when she comes back, but there’s no tightness in her chest, no fluttering nervousness, no sweaty hands at the thought of not getting it all done right away. She’s even leaving her work computer in the office.

With a smile on her face, Rey watches her coworkers playfully argue over a popular Yankee swap gift—a giant bottle of wine—and she thinks maybe she’s finally learned how to relax.

* * *

Ben’s been saying _I love you_ —actually speaking the words out loud—for days, and it still doesn’t seem real. It can’t be. Just like it can’t be real that she says them back. Even that morning, their very last morning at the resort, Rey is resting in his arms, and he can’t believe it.

“Do you remember that feeling when you fall in love with someone?” he whispers. He caresses along her bare hip, staring at their reflection in the ceiling. “How your stomach swoops when you see them, how you feel so overwhelmed by it you feel like you’ll explode? And you can’t believe you’re lucky enough to exist at the same time as them?”

She presses a soft kiss to his chest. “Yeah, Ben. I do.”

“I didn’t know that feeling stuck around.”

Rey props up on her elbow, and he glances over at her, at the way she tugs her swollen bottom lip between her teeth.

“I still feel it whenever I’m around you,” he admits. “It should have gone away, I know it should have. But I think I only got good at ignoring it, and now…”

Her mouth curls at the edges. She reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, a blush settling over her cheeks. “I know what you mean. I’ve loved you for so long, even when I shouldn’t have, and I don’t think that’ll ever go away. It didn’t even when I wanted it to.”

She gives a little shrug, a sweet carefree laugh, and Ben nods. “Exactly.”

It’s a struggle to get out of bed and pack up and leave, but the moment they step inside the elevator and let the doors close behind them, Rey twines her arms around his neck, lifting up on her toes and abandoning her luggage. He catches her and kisses her back with a smile, with a lightness, and strangely, he can’t bring himself to wish anything went differently.

His mouth slides over hers, and he doesn’t regret any of the heartache, any of the times they both failed to say _I love you._

Their car ride home passes with the ease that grows over years of friendship—it feels like falling back into a familiar rhythm, like rereading a book you haven’t read for years, but still know by heart. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy with Rey, why the old inside jokes come to mind like they were never forgotten, why the whole trip flies by without a hint of nerves or awkwardness.

He knows her by heart, and the opposite seems true, too.

Rey knows him in and out, she _must,_ because when they’re parked outside her place and he has her pressed against the car’s side door in the dim light of a street lamp, she says exactly what he needs to hear.

“I love you. I love saying it,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed to his chest. His hands squeeze at her sides. “Can I make that a rule? I want us to say that. Every day. Even if it’s only over text.”

He nods against the top of her head. “That’s a good rule.”

“I wish you could come inside, stay the night. Sleeping alone after the last week…” she shakes her head a little. “Not looking forward to it.”

She curls her hands in the front of his shirt as she says it, and Ben holds his breath, not wanting to push. They’ve just spent the week together and _everything_ has changed. He assumed she’d want space, even just for a night, to process everything.

“Feel like coming upstairs?” she asks softly. “You don’t have to, but I’d really like it if you did. I’m not ready to be alone yet.”

His arm slides around her waist, holding her against him rather than pressing her back to the car. His forehead presses to hers, and _god_ it’s perfect, it’s something he never thought he’d have, and barely believes is real, even now.

“You’re not alone,” he whispers. “You won’t be, not even when I stay at my place. But if the offer stands, I’d like to stay.”

Relief fills her expression, her whole body—she sags against him, letting out a long breath. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “I really didn’t want to say goodbye, even for the night.” She pauses, and asks, “How do you feel about weekly sleepovers? Either place, I don’t care which, but I think I’d like to know I’ll be sharing a bed with you, even if it’s just once a week. Assuming we can make it work with our schedules.”

“Of course,” he sighs. There’s a strange amount of relief and gladness in knowing it isn’t just him. “On one condition.”

“Oh?”

Ben nods and presses his mouth to hers for a brief kiss before pulling back to say, “When I sleep over, I want you to sleep in something of mine. A shirt, sweater, whatever. That, or nothing.”

With a grin, she lifts on her toes and nods, then kisses him again. It’s slower this time, sweeter maybe because they both know it isn’t the last of the night. 

“I think we fucked up slow,” he murmurs against her mouth.

She pulls back and gives him a look, like she’s questioning whether he’s an idiot. And maybe he is, because what she says next is so obvious, so _right,_ he should have known.

“Ben…” she huffs. “We were never going to take this slow.”

After a moment, he smiles. “Okay. Good.”

* * *

One Wednesday morning in February, the roads are icy, snow falls in clumps, and Holdo calls it at 3 AM, emailing the office-wide mailing list to tell them they have the day off. Rey sighs in relief at the email, and even more so when Ben rolls over beside her, searching for her in the dark. 

“I have the day off, the snow’s coming down too hard,” she whispers, abandoning her phone on the nightstand so she can turn back and cuddle in his arms.

He wraps around her, groggily replying, “Good. Sleep in. Stay. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Not _now,”_ Rey laughs. “It’s three in the morning. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll stay. It’s too dangerous to leave, anyway.”

She lets him press her to his chest, and she nuzzles into the cotton of the long-sleeved shirt he went to sleep in. It seems impossible to be so comfortable, so happy.

“No, _stay,”_ he murmurs against the top of her head. He says it quietly, like he’s worried she might not.

Rey frowns, tilting her head back so she can look up at him. It’s hard to see much in the dark of his bedroom, but a hint of light streams in a window, probably from a streetlight. It illuminates his face in a gentle blue-tone, showing the softness in his expression.

“There’s already almost a foot of snow on the ground,” she explains, her confusion deepening. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere. Amilyn gave everyone the day off, I’ll—”

“No,” he interrupts. “I don’t mean just today.”

She pauses, her fingers curling in the front of his shirt.

“It’s up to you,” he rushes to clarify, his voice far less sleepy than it was a minute ago. “But when’s the last time either of us slept alone?”

As she hesitates, and then tries to remember, one of his hands drags up her, cupping her face. His thumb soothes over her cheek, just as she figures out she can’t remember when they last slept apart. It’s always either her staying at his place, or him staying at hers.

Maybe three or four weeks ago, they split apart for the night, but not since.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Oh, you’re right.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment, before she comments, “My closet’s full of your clothes.”

“And mine’s full of yours,” he says softly. “But if you’d still rather keep your own—”

“No, no, I’d love to move in.” It’s both a snap decision, but it feels _right._ “You really want me to?”

A little smile quirks at his mouth. “When I’m in this bed alone, it reminds me of that couch I used to have in my office.” His voice is tender, a little shaky. “This doesn’t feel like home without you. Please, stay.”

For some reason, the answer makes her laugh, but it’s a stunned sort of laugh, like she’s surprised to see so much of her own feelings reflected back at her. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs, when she sees his frown. “Yes, of course I want to move in. I feel the same way. But I’m trying to think of a time you asked me for something and said _please,_ and I genuinely can’t remember one.”

The expression that grows on his face is sour, clearly masking how close he is to laughing, too. He sighs and shakes his head, which only makes her laugh harder. He tsks and rolls over her, then finds her throat with his mouth, sucking and leaving soothing kisses when she hisses in surprise. 

He travels down to the crook of her shoulder until he gets to the collar of his own shirt, at which point he lifts his head to grumble, “Why the fuck are you wearing a shirt?”

“You asked me to wear it.”

He boxes her in, two knees on the bed bracketing her thighs and his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her head. “I can’t believe I’d do that, you must be mistaken.”

She bursts out laughing and argues, “You _literally_ said, ‘I want you to—’”

Ben interrupts, barely keeping the smile out of his voice. “Wow. Still such a brat after all these months.”

“I think you like it,” she fires back. “You did just ask this brat to move in with you, didn’t you?”

It’s asking for trouble, but it’s three in the morning and she’s moving in, and they’re going to _live together,_ and Rey’s in too good of a mood not to tease him.

He stares down at her, working his mouth. “Someday, we’re going to readdress the _no discipline_ policy.”

Rey laughs until he shuts her up. 

They never do readdress the long-standing _no discipline_ policy, not even by the time Rey drops her last box just inside the apartment’s entry. She frowns at the stack of boxes, her lips flattening into a line. It’s so many things, so much _stuff._ It’s unfathomable that she’s collected so many things since her last move—a few days after graduation, when she moved merely three boxes out of her old apartment while Finn stood there, shocked he wasn’t able to be of more use. She just wasn’t the type to have many things, she’d told him.

But that wasn’t quite the case. She _did_ have things filling those three boxes, but they were all important in some way. Maybe they were gifts, maybe they were tools that would be helpful to her in her career, maybe they were simply important because they were bought with hard-earned cash, but each thing had a reason it was kept and not brought to a second-hand store.

Now, as Rey nervously plays at the end of her braid and stares at all the boxes full of things she’s somehow acquired, she realizes the same can’t be said for them. Something about moving all of it into Ben’s place bothers her.

She folds her arms over her thick sweater and leans back against his front door, considering all of it.

“How’s it going out there?” Ben asks from the kitchen. She hears the sound of tape ripping off _yet another box of her stuff,_ and she grimaces.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Just lots of stuff to unpack. I should have noticed while packing it up, but I guess I didn’t.”

He hums from the kitchen. “Seems like a normal amount to me. Unless you think we need to consider a bigger place.”

It’s hard not to laugh at that idea. 

She and Ben are a great match in a lot of ways, but where she’s lived in the same tiny one-bedroom since graduating college, Ben has gone from one gorgeous, spacious apartment to another, to another, never with much consideration for the cost of rent.

“Mm, now that you mention it, I think a fourth bedroom might be good,” Rey says dryly. “That way Kylo can have his own room.”

His head pops out from the kitchen, his hair tucked behind an ear. “Really?” He frowns only slightly, but gives an agreeable shrug. “I really don’t think he needs a room to himself. He already treats the whole apartment like it’s his. But I suppose if we’re thinking about moving, we could use a bigger kitchen.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, tossing the closest harmless object—a throw pillow, sitting on a random useless armchair in his _absurdly_ fancy entry way—in his direction. It smacks against the corner of the kitchen entry, flopping away from him and onto the floor. “I was kidding! Obviously the cat doesn’t need his own room, and that kitchen is massive, you’re absolutely ridiculous.” She pauses at his confused expression and says, exasperation filling her voice, “ _Ben,_ I didn’t even need to move things to make space for the mixer when I brought it over. You have _miles_ of counter top. You couldn’t possibly want a bigger kitchen.”

He doesn’t reply. Just blinks at her once, then again.

“You _really_ want a bigger place?” she says hopelessly, her shoulders sagging.

Ben shakes his head. He comes out of the kitchen slowly, his eyes wide. A stern look starts to take over what she thought was confusion. 

“Did you just _toss a pillow_ at me?”

She pauses. 

Ben advances. Around the boxes, right into the entry. He backs her up against their front door, presses her to it with his whole body. Rey sucks in a breath as he tilts her head up with a single finger under her chin.

There’s a darkly amused grin curling at his mouth. “Did you toss a pillow at me, sweetheart?”

“I might have,” she admits.

He huffs a laugh. For a moment, Rey relaxes. She thinks—briefly—that this might just descend into laughter, or maybe even a pillow fight.

She’s wrong, and that becomes obvious the moment he bends down and sweeps her off her feet. She yelps and wriggles in surprise, arguing, “Ben, my sneakers— I haven’t even taken them off! It was a _pillow!_ What are you even— _”_

Within half a minute, he’s sitting in the middle of his couch, holding her while she straddles him. Once she sees his grin, she laughs with her head tossed back, babbling about how it was _only a pillow_ between laughs.

Ben cups her face, and through a shrinking smile, he murmurs, “Hey. You feel like talking about it?”

“Talking about what?” she replies, her tone deceptively light and playful.

He pauses, then says gently, “Before I interrupted, you spent a while staring down the boxes in the entry. You looked pissed. Did they throw a pillow at you?” he jokes. “I know how frustrating that can be, but…”

Rey rolls her eyes as his voice trails off, but she settles against him, letting the false cheer slip away. “It isn’t that I’m not happy to be moving in. I _am._ I really am,” she assures. She bites at her lips, glancing around at the fully furnished, decorated living room as something sinks in her gut. “But your place is so nice and already furnished and everything. I’m not bringing anything that’s very useful, it’s just a bunch of _stuff_.”

Her fists curl into the front of his long-sleeved shirt, and she frowns down at his chest. “I’m worried I’ll take up too much room. I don’t mean that we need a bigger place—we don’t. But this is your space, and I already feel bad about you clearing a closet for me. You already made room on the bookshelves, and you made room for my mixer, and… you’re just having to make so much room for me.”

When she finally dares to meet his eyes, his reaction is underwhelming.

“Yeah, I am,” he nods. “What about it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t like invading this much of your space.”

Ben stays quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his words are tender. “But this isn’t my space, Rey. It’s _our_ space. That’s the point of you moving in here.” He gestures over at one of the bookcases, the one that’s now disorganized. “I didn’t make room for your books on my bookcase. That’s _our_ bookcase, and it’s overflowing because _we_ have a lot of books. I didn’t clear a closet for you—I moved some of my clothes out of _our_ closet so you could hang yours.”

In a whisper, he urges, “Take up space.” His thumb caresses over her cheek. “If you want to get rid of things, that’s one thing—if you feel like _we_ have too many things and that makes you unhappy, fine. But don’t stress out about taking up room. I _want_ you to. You aren’t my girlfriend who sleeps over in my apartment, you aren’t my roommate who keeps their things separately. You’re my partner, and this is _our_ place.”

He wipes under her eye, and Rey sputters, not even realizing she’s started tearing up.

“Paint the walls if you want,” he shrugs. “Donate the rugs and pick new ones you like more. I let my mother pick out half of it because I couldn’t care less. This is _our_ space, and I only care that you’re happy here.”

Rey leans forward, bracing her hands on his chest and resting her forehead against his. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Mind? Sweetheart, it’s a _requirement._ It’s a rule.” He works his mouth, then nuzzles his nose to hers. “I want you to think of things you want to change. I don’t care if it’s a different way to organize the bathroom closets, or if you want different curtains, or if you want us to repaint every room. Change it until it feels just as much yours as it is mine.”

She takes a minute to look around and really tries to think of what she’d do if this was her apartment.

She’d put a rug going down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Get another bookcase, maybe something smaller. Add a little color to Ben’s all-white and dark hardwood bedroom—maybe a bit of green or yellow. A shelf inside his shower would be _much_ better than leaving bottles in a little basket on the shower floor, even if the shower is a fancy walk-in. His spice rack needs a _lot_ of organizing. Kylo might not need a room, but a cat-tree would be nice.

“Okay,” she nods slowly. “I can do that. I think.”

Ben holds her face in both hands and kisses her until she’s sure.

* * *

While everything once disappeared in his life, now Rey helps him bring it all back. She doesn’t do all of it, but she encourages it, and that’s half the battle.

The biggest change starts quietly.

After a couple weeks of living together, she _finally_ starts referring to it as _our_ apartment, and he’s so happy, he decides to buy her something. Something extra, something more than her usual tiny weekly request. He asks what she’s been wanting and Rey only answers with a cheeky, “Kisses.” Of course, she gets what she wants (she _always_ does), but that’s when he decides to make an adjustment.

Ben brings home a white board and hangs it in the hallway. Half of it is reserved for regular notes—a list of things they need to buy when they go grocery shopping, a reminder for the date and time of their next dinner with his parents. The other half, he tells Rey, is for a wishlist. A wishlist for items that go beyond the paint-your-own holiday ornaments kits, the nail polishes, the new fancy coffees she feels like trying. He assumes she’ll put larger items on it. Things like a roomba or an espresso machine.

He’s utterly wrong.

Three weeks after bringing the white board home, he’s chasing her down with a bottle of vitamins before she leaves for work, and he sees something _different_ out of the corner of his eye. He stops short in the hallway, relieved she’s finally written something on her wishlist.

But then he sees what it is, and his heart sinks.

 _A friend dinner_ is written there, black on stark white.

It takes him a week to work up the nerve to make the phone calls to numbers he never deleted, not even after the falling out they all had so many years ago. Not a word of it is easy, but Poe, Finn, and Rose are surprisingly open to talking with him.

The four of them meet for lunch that very day, and Ben’s terrified the whole time. He can’t help but remember the way he stopped being there for all of them, the way Rose told him so many years ago that he was making a huge mistake by not telling Rey the truth, the way Poe snapped at him and told him he _sold out,_ the way Ben just shoved them all in a box and pushed them away. He half-expects them to hear him out, only to roll their eyes and leave when he’s done apologizing. He half-expects them to be disappointed in Rey for choosing to be with him. He almost expects them to laugh him off, to tell him he was worthless as a friend, and that nothing has changed even if he _has_ left the First Order and spent a serious amount of time reconsidering his priorities.

As it turns out, he’s wrong about all of that, too.

Two days after the phone call, there’s a not-unexpected knock on the apartment door, right around dinner time on a quiet Saturday.

Poe’s the first one to hug him, after setting a stack of pizza boxes on a little table in the entry. He hugs as though nothing ever went wrong with their friendship. Ben’s so surprised, he doesn’t react until Poe mutters, “You can hug me back, y’know.”

And he does. He hugs Poe back so tightly, it’s a wonder the man can breathe.

Finn is only slightly more hesitant, but the man gives him the sort of hug his father gives—a brief one, but one that includes a couple pats on the back, and a quiet, “Hey, it’s good to see you. I’m really happy you called.”

Rose practically leaps at him, and he can’t help but laugh. 

It’s such a shocking relief, having them all there.

Rey wanders out of their bedroom and down the hallway with Kylo purring in her arms, questions written all over her face. 

“Surprise friend dinner!” Rose announces, gesturing to the pizza boxes.

For a minute, Rey just stands there. Her bottom lip wobbles, and then her face melts into a watery smile. She sets the cat down and wipes at her eyes with the sleeves of her maroon college sweater.

“Sorry. I didn’t know. Ben didn’t tell me,” she says faintly, sniffing. She accepts a big hug from Rose, and over the woman’s shoulder, she glances to him, giving him that wide-eyed, thankful smile that makes all the worrying worth it. In a hush, she adds, “I’m so glad you’re all here.”

💜

Toward the end of dinner, Ben makes an excuse to leave the living room. For a long while, he leans against the kitchen counter, his arms folded over his chest while he struggles to process it all. He listens to everyone laughing and socializing in his living room, noise that should be a long-lost echo from a decade past. It doesn’t seem possible that he could be so lucky to have any of these people still in his life. 

And yet, when Rey pads into the kitchen to join him, not speaking a word as she pushes into his arms and buries her face in his chest, he knows this is real. It’s too good to have been imagined.

“I can’t believe you called them,” she mumbles. “And you’re _friends_ again, Ben, oh my god. Thank you. _”_

He squeezes her tighter. “I wish I’d known how much you wanted it. The only reason I never tried reaching out was because I didn’t think they’d forgive me. I wasn’t expecting this,” he admits.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly, leaning back in his arms. “You were taking a while with the wine. That’s why I came to find you.”

Ben lets out a long breath. “I’m good. Better than expected.”

“They really missed you.”

“I missed them. More than I realized.”

Rey tips her head back, glancing up at him. “Could we host monthly game nights or something? Could that be my request for the week?”

“You’re supposed to ask for indulgent things,” he scolds, his shoulders sagging with the relief of something familiar. “Of course we can do that. But you’re getting something else, in addition.”

Just as Rey looks like she’s about to argue—her eyes narrowed while she gives him the cutest pout she can manage—Poe appears in the entry to the kitchen.

“Trouble finding the wine?” he teases, and it sinks in, how much Ben missed the man, even if he _can_ be a dick. The lines around Poe’s eyes wrinkle with his smile. He gestures between them and says, “Hey uh, we’ve all kinda been wondering. If you don’t mind me asking—how did this happen? Finn and I both thought you had a thing in college, but…”

Ben pauses, a million ways to explain, and very few explanations he should give.

Rey stammers for a moment, her cheeks flushing. “We never really stopped being friends, but… uh. I guess after Ben left the First Order we sort of— well, we took a vacation. I guess we just realized we’re, um— I—” 

That’s when he finally figures out the word. The word he scrambled for and never found that day on the bench when Rey unknowingly broke his heart.

“Compatible,” he murmurs, a little stunned by the simplicity of it. He clears his throat. “We realized we're compatible.”

💜

Later that night, once everyone’s left, Rey’s sitting on his lap on the couch. “Compatible, huh?” she asks wryly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

He can’t help but laugh. “What was I _supposed_ to say? You really wanted me to tell him—”

“No, no of course not,” she interrupts, laughing along with him.

They calm after a moment, and Rey rests against him, asking, “So… you finally unpacked the box. No more shoving away your old life. How’s it feel? I think I saw Finn tear up when he found out you saved every birthday card.”

His mouth tilts, and then he pauses at the sudden memory of something he hasn’t thought about in a while. 

“There’s still something in it, actually.”

She frowns up at him, confused because she knows there isn’t a real box shoved into one of their closets. “What do you mean?”

There isn’t really a box shoved into the back of his closet, not anymore, but there’s still an item from it that hasn’t been addressed yet. The photos have all come out, all been framed and either hung or given away, the memories shared with the friends they were built with. The cards and movie stubs have been made into a little collage Rey put together one long weekend, and it’s hanging in their guest room. The textbook, while no longer needed, sits on one of their bookshelves like an inside secret.

But the ring?

When he first opened and unpacked that box, Ben came across the ring, held in a small velvet pouch. He’d sat on his bedroom floor and stared at it for a while, about a week before going on vacation with Rey. It hadn’t felt right at the time, hadn’t even felt right to look at. It was a piece of his old life, or maybe the life he—

The life he has _now._

“Yeah.” He barely has to think about it. There’s never been a better time. “One more thing. I think I’ve been saving it for you.”

“Oh?” she laughs, clearly and adorably oblivious. She twines her arms around his neck, prodding, “What is it? Please tell me it isn’t another textbook. _Ooh_ is it another cat? Though… I guess that wouldn’t make sense, not if you’ve been saving it, so—”

"Rey," he interrupts, his voice coming out in a breath. “Rey, it’s an engagement ring.”

The laughter stays in her face for a moment. He watches her expression change slowly into something stunned, then wide-eyed and tear-filled.

Her words waver. “Oh. Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. Assuming that’s what you want.”

A few tears roll down her cheeks as she nods, and she wipes them away, her brows furrowed like she’s struggling to believe any of it. It’s a feeling he can relate to. Rey huffs out a laugh, leaning forward. Just before she catches his mouth with hers, she whispers, “Yes.”

While he smiles into their kiss, Ben mumbles a single-word reply against her lips.

_“Good.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Attack's Twitter](https://twitter.com/AttackotDC)


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